I have been thinking a lot lately. By thinking I mean just diving into my deepest thoughts and wallowing there for hours at a time. I've been staying up stupidly late to avoid those moments when I get into bed and lie there for hours just thinking. Wallowing. Crying. All the sadness inside me thrives on the silence and the darkness, and just bursts out of me as soon as I lie down for the night.
My thoughts of G, of the awful way his life ended, have been haunting me lately. Obviously judging from other mutual friends on FB, the feeling is going around. That suicide is ever the option just breaks my heart, and we lost two of our small community of friends within four months of each other. I can't even fathom the depths of despair they each found themselves in. I thought I had been to those depths, but I don't think I truly have, and that thought scares the absolute shit out of me. Because where I have been? Is pretty fucking dark. I dread to think of how their final days must have been. And I know it isn't healthy to think about such things, especially for someone with a somewhat precarious mental health stability myself. And yet...I do.
I only realised the other day, that this baby is due on the first anniversary of the death of our G. Life is such a funny beast.
