I've never been the type of girl to date a man that was good for me. I've always used to the bad boys. I never viewed myself as good enough for anyone, so when I met him, he fit right in.
This is for you, you know who you are.
I pictured what you'd look like in your casket far more often than I should have. The thoughts I had of you deceased consumed my brain. I couldn't help but imagine getting a call from your mother, your sister, the police, or the emergency room telling me that you were gone. I imagined them telling me to come say my goodbyes to your lifeless body. I picture you overdosed, somewhere you know you shouldn't have been, with someone you knew wasn't your friend.
I envision them telling me that the Narcan hadn't brought you back this time. They will tell me that they tried to save you but I still won't believe them. I imagine what it would feel like to lay my head on your cold chest. I would no longer hear the heartbeat that I tried so hard to keep beating.
I have visualized myself at your wake. I would be dressed in a long black dress, with my hair untamed, wearing no makeup. This is the look you fell in love with. I would find myself apologizing to your family for failing to save you. I would listen to them tell me this isn't my fault, but I would tell them that they are wrong.
I would cry because I would realize that this would be the last time I would see your face. I would never get the chance to touch you, to feel you, to kiss you ever again. We would never get to live out our spontaneous life plans together.
I can picture myself at your funeral. I would be pleading, speaking to all of your loved ones about the amazing man you were. I would tell them how addicts take good people, and you were taken from me. I would tell them about all the times you made me smile. This would be followed by more tears, realizing that you are really gone.
I would attend your funeral and watch your wooden coffin be put into the deep soil of the graveyard. I imagine myself screaming for them to stop, slamming my body ontop of your coffin,. Your father would rip my body away, reapeating that you are gone. I will tell him he is wrong because this couldn't have happened, that you wouldn't do this to me, you promised.
I will tell him how it is not your time and how you promised you would never leave. He will keep repeating to me that you are never coming back.
Suddenly, I wake up and you are sleeping peacefully next to me. I turn over and make sure you are still breathing. I go and make my coffee and start my day.
You once asked me if I still wanted to be with an addict, after watching the horrific heroin abuse you chose to live with. I innocently said yes.
You are in rehab now and and I just received a letter that you want to go your separate way. This was my reality for almost a year. Making sure someone was alive. And now I must move on.