He’s dead

A man jumped from our garage yesterday. It’s only 5 floors. I didn’t see the impact, but I saw the aftermath. He landed on his back and I think he cracked his head open cuz there was a pool of blood where his head was. He was still breathing when the medics came, but he was pronounced dead at the hospital.

Later on I was telling my friend about it and he mentioned that he had a relative who committed suicide by shooting himself in the heart. He said no one expected it cuz he had just gotten married and had a newborn. Instead of thinking, "how sad" I thought, "how brave." Bad, I know.

Needless to say, it got me thinking a lot about killing myself again. I wish I was brave enough. I’m too chicken. But I can understand the urge. I look at my life and I think, "What kind of life is this to live? A life without love is no life at all." It’s painful going through this alone day-by-day. I have so much love to give and no one to give it to.

Max text me yesterday and said that he didn’t know if he still loved me or not. I said, "You don’t know? How can you not know? You either do or you don’t. Tell me if you don’t. I need to hear it if that’s how you feel." He just says, "Sorry. I don’t know." Then he follows it up with a funny picture to try and change the subject. I didn’t reply after that.

I felt like he kicked me in the stomach. Not because he didn’t know if he loved me (which by the way, to me, really means no I don’t love you), but what hurt me was how nonchalant he said it. How is it that easy for him? It’s almost a cruel game to him.

After thinking about it all day, I feel like Max is finally dead to me. There’s no reconciling, no friendship, no understanding, no being the bigger person and bowing-out gracefully. Now there’s just anger and ugliness.

Fuck you Max. I hope you die a horrible death someday.