Hushed Truth

Sometimes, I miss how things used to be. A part of me wishes that I never left him before he died, even though another part of me knows it was for the best. I miss my favourite person so much. I feel so lonely. 

How does someone decide to kill themselves? I told him that I loved him so much and he kept hitting me. I wonder if he saw me screaming his name until my lungs starting shrinking. I wonder if he saw me staring at his frozen body, hunched over, hands over my face trying to claw my eyes out. 

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