This is how it ends

(This story contains depictions of substance abuse and suicide. Please read at viewers discretions.)

Dear Me, younger me, 

What happened to us? To all the hopes and dreams that we held, as you got older I guess you lost a sense of what you wanted. Remember when we thought we could become an engineer, we always enjoyed looking at cars on the TV with Dad. After engineering we wanted to be doctors, yeah who would’ve thought, we wanted to be saving lives, I’ve lost all motivation to keep working, all motivation to stay alive and yet here are 23 looking down from a building to what will be my death. When do you think was the first time we felt like this? I think the first time was when we were 14, remember when you wrote that letter to our crush and he denied it in front of the whole school. They made fun of us for a week when that happened.  I remember, we went home and cried when everything started. That’s when we started to think we weren’t good enough, and that we could never be loved. When we started to isolate ourselves, remember what mom told us, “you can’t be hurt if you don’t let people in”. So what we did was we started to focus on our school work, we made sure nobody got in, not even if we wanted them there.  Mom had a funny way of making us feel like we were in the wrong. What did the therapist say she was “invalidating our feelings” . But can you blame her after Dad wasn’t there, she was by herself she didn’t want us to see her hurt, but who knew I would end up like her. Who knew we would end up alone like her and sitting on a cliff of a building about to jump like her. Remember when she died we weren’t even sad, we were prepared we knew this was coming. She was strung out and getting closer to death everyday. Then she just did it, she just shot herself. How old were we 19, right? Currently, while sitting on this ledge the only thing I can think about is her cold, lifeless body laying on that gurney. Maybe, it’s all the drugs or alcohol in my system clouding my thoughts, or maybe this is really what I want. I just wanted to let you know, drowning yourself in work or in other things won’t help. There were times when people reached out to us. Remember our best friend Lionel, he was always checking up on us, but of course like always we pushed him away. We made sure that he’d never come back, and that’s our fault. You wanna know why that’s our fault because we told him that he sucks, that he was useless, and that we would be better if he was gone. So he’s never coming back, and of course we’re too much of an idiot to go back and get him. So like always we took more drugs to hide our hurt to hide our pain. Remember Lindsay, our sponsor, even when we failed over and over again she always had faith in us. Remember when we drank so much we were rushed to the ER and guess who was the first person there Lindsay, but like always we pushed her away. We told her we didn’t need her because we were soooooo sober. Guess how many days sober we were, 7 DAYS. I hadn’t drank alcohol for 7 days and I told Lindsay I didn’t need her, what a joke. Right after Lindsay stopped contacting me, stopped calling me, I took one sip of vodka and it all went downhill from there. We pushed away the best boyfriend we ever had, the only one that didn’t use us because we needed more drugs. We broke up with him because he wanted what was best for us, and you know even though we were a handful he always looked after us and he always loved us, but now, I don’t even think he’d care if our bodies splattered on the pavement for all of New York to see. All because we couldn’t fathom that they actually cared, all because we were taught and raised to believe that no one does. You're probably wondering who we kept, we kept Derek and Logan, yeah Logan and FREAKING Derek. Our dealers, the two people who are only friends with you when you're high and barely breathing. THAT’S WHO WE KEPT, not only did we keep them but we let them push the people we were close to. No, I can’t blame them. I can’t even blame you because you’re not the one who made those choices. I’m the one who decided who got to stay and who got to leave. I pushed all those people away, not them, I chose to keep them around, we chose to keep them around. You’re probably wondering why I’m writing this letter, you’re the only person. The only person I have left to write to, sad right. I guess you can make this my “suicide note”, but really it’s to tell people to not remorse for me. It’s to tell people that my life is nothing, that I am nothing. There’s no point in investigating my death because there is no one, and I mean no one who will mourn me. I sealed the deal long ago. You will never read this letter because it’s too late, too late to reverse what I’ve done, too late to apologize to the people I’ve hurt, too late to apologize to you for making all these mistakes from taking you from the sweet little girl to the tweaked out druggie you are now. I’m sorry that this is how your life had to end. I’m sorry that we never could be the engineer or the doctor that we dreamed of being. I tried so hard to change to, not be like our mother but I guess history always repeats itself. I’m sorry. 

Love, your dead older self