I Miss my Best Friend
I just miss my best friend. Every day, I just feel emptier and emptier, but I’m trying so hard to put on a brave face and tell everyone I’m doing alright. Especially with having just quit using meth, if I show too much sadness, I fear it’ll be mistaken for relapse. Also, I’ve done so much damage to so many people, my self-worth is non-existent. I feel like expressing anything I desire or feel will be little more than a burden because I don’t deserve to be heard and I don’t deserve to have my desires fulfilled. Especially when it pertains to my best friend.
It’s even harder with having very little memory of things. Granted, memories are starting to come back, and a lot of them are eye-opening and quite painful, but some of the information from the memories I haven’t yet recovered would be useful to have. I keep pissing him off and I don’t understand what it is at that moment that I did, but I had to have overlooked something to have gotten myself in trouble again.
I just wish he’d come back. I know I fucked up, but I don’t want to live the rest of my life not hearing another idea or thought that goes on in his mind. I don’t want to go the rest of my life incapable of making him laugh again. I don’t want to spend my whole life trying to replace him because it can’t happen. He was my best friend for a reason. I love him more than anything. Did I really let meth have enough control to fuck up bad enough to never see him again? Did I really ruin my entire hope for happiness at 28?
Without him, I don’t experience happiness. Maybe brief spurts of joy, but true happiness in life? Without my best friend to talk to, happiness doesn’t exist for me. Every day just bleeds into the next and I wake up every morning waiting to go to sleep because at least those nightmares end. When I wake up, I only continue the same nightmare that was taking place the day before. Even 6 anxiety support capsules doesn’t numb a broken heart enough to avoid crying. The only help they’ve done is allow me to cry with a straight face while I lie in bed hating myself for the horrible person I became using meth and the horrible decisions I made. I fucked everything up and how could anyone forgive me? I don’t. I deserve nothing to work in my favor. I deserve to be hated by the people I love. The only thing I deserve is to spend every moment putting every effort into trying to balance out the aftermath from the piece of shit I’ve been.
Losing him was the worst punishment I could have received second to losing my daughter… and I earned it. It’s my fault.