unfiltered

xi. 23 // trigger warning

(trigger warning for insinuations to suicide and mention of guns)

i turn twenty three soon,
a number i only dared to
think of in the company
of happiness,
where plans of
marriage and a job
slotted in at twenty five,
children at twenty seven,
a home at thirty.

but twenty three
seems weird now.
different.
it can't promise
the things i want it to.
the things i thought
i knew.

when i recite the birthdays
in october, i'm reminded
of the gaping hole
you can no longer fill.
my mind stills on the day
after mine, and instantly
the memory of that day
leaps to the forefront—
mind hitting play.

i'm fourteen and we've just met.
i secretly hate that my brother
has more friends to bring home.
i also secretly hate that
our mothers are talking about us
as if we're not there,
comparing our pasts and presents,
speculating how much we have
in common because i'm a day older
than you.

but as those memories fade
i'm reminded again that
days and weeks and
months and years will
pass by with you gone,
and that someday, you'll have
been gone longer than you
were here.

i think that's the thought
that haunts me most.
because despite everything,
i did think of you
in a forever kind of way,
even if we only shared a
handful of interactions.

i want you to know that i
thought you would
get a super fancy job that
your mum would call mine
about,
that you'd find a nice house,
marry at twenty four and
lead me to think that you'd
once again out done me.

i never thought you'd go
the way you did.
lone gunshot in your backyard,
heartbeat suddenly stilled,
articles after tarnishing your name.
i would have never thought
it in a million years.

but it happened.
you're gone.
and i don't know
if there's something
to be done.
to be honest sometimes
all i can do is think that we had
more in common than
you may have thought,
and that thought eats at me
more than you could know.

because you should be here.
you should be here
being the perfect son
that your mother boasts about.
you should be here reminiscing
all the restaurants we went to,
all those burgers we ate
trying to find something we liked,
the pizza nights at my house
that i hated.
you should be here.
you should be here celebrating
another year.

but that's a choice you had
a hand in and i can't do anything
but wish you well.

so here's to twenty three,
you're not here and nothing
will ever be the same
but i do hope you
are at peace now.

a / n

so someone i know died this past summer and i guess i just had a lot of thoughts so here you go?? i hope i did a good enough of a job writing this.

anyways that's all! i hope you're all doing well and until the next time!! x