A little bit of history.

[[this isn't done but I'll be damned if I dont let it out.]]

I remember the night. driving up to his friends in morrow county. offering him a drink but him saying no because "he didn't want to risk anything happening to me"
The night, the sharp left turn. the bumping, the rolling of the car. EMS almost instantaneous. the blood. the blood that wasn't mine, because my blood had painted the ground, not my face, my chest. screaming. knowing he was gone but trying so hard not to believe it. but the blood, the lack of response from him... the laceration in the back of his head I heard about later, which made sense because all the blood had to come from somewhere. the EMS workers as I begged them to help him. [tears... gotta stop now...]

less than two months after he died my mom told me to "get over it"
five months after he died, I was in another state, away from one of his best friends [my boyfriend at the time, we were both hurting after the accident] I had broken up with him, I couldn't do the distance thing.
I dated a friend for a very short while [absolutely nothing serious, though I was his first gf, lol] We broke up because I stole from Meijer and got in an argument with a friend of his.

That night I grabbed the scissors out of my bag, sitting by an overpass. First I hacked off all my hair. Cut a good 6inches off, down to 1-2inches. I didn't feel better afterward. Not good enough. I sliced my arms, my neck, my chest. Not very deeply, but enough to bleed. The scissors were dull, anyway. The blood was pretty. I called 911 on myself [anonymously] and waited.
I was thinking I would be in a 72hr suicide watch type thing. I didn't know better, I was barely 17. My dad decided instead, to have me committed. 2weeks. I was told I had borderline personality disorder.
After, I was shipped back home to my mom, the self righteous bitch. She was the reason I was even up there in the first place.
This was 3yrs ago. I was put on prozac, which made me feel awful. My mom never let me go to another shrink, so I never got any more therapy or medication.

[Incomplete]
It's been 4 years. and I still can't stop crying sometimes. even being engaged, having a child... I miss you so much more than I can say. I will never let you go...