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Rob is drastically off with me today and I have no idea what has caused it. He has been defensive and distant since I got home at 1:30 and in all honesty I want to wake him up and question him about it, but he sleeps so little that I don’t want to disturb his rest.

So much loss. 12 months of loss.

Weight, a love, myself, my mind, my great aunt, my grandad, my duo … my reason, my purpose.

Is someone really a friend if they actively ignore you? 

Is someone really a friend if they only actually stay in contact when they need something from you?

Is someone really a friend if they are “too busy” to see/talk to you, but are on their phone all the time? 

There is a famous quote by Mandy Hale “”Too Busy” is a myth. People make time for things that are really important to them”. This leads me to the conclusion that actually 90% of the people I have in my life - don’t actually want me in theirs. 

I have several “friends” who fit the description above. Friends who I consistently try to contact. Who consistently ignore my attempts. Friends who only actually contact me in their time of need, because actually, I will bend over backwards to help those whom I love or are important to me. 

There was a discussion had between myself and someone close to me at the weekend about the meme which went round “if you had to call someone to save your life and if they answer you die, if they don’t you live - who would you call?” The harsh reality is - Only maybe 2 of the people I call “friends” would answer. 

I can tell you right now my “best friend” wouldn’t. I have supported her through having a child. Held her whilst she cried over boys. Held her hand at her grand parents wake. Comforted her whilst she had to tell her siblings that their grand father had passed away. And yet, I know she wouldn’t be there if I called. 

Someone I have helped on numerous occasions, supported through a mental breakdown & forgiven when shes slandered my name. Dropped dates for, cancelled plans for and sat cold at a lake side whilst she spoke her truth and poured out her heart. We spent so much time together and the minute she starts dating someone I don’t here from her for months and she ignores virtually every message I sent - she DEFINITELY wouldn’t answer. 

Another who I have held whilst she has sobbed, supported when her whole world felt like it was upside down, consoled at the memory of a child she couldn’t keep, uplifted when all her exams were a fail - she wouldn’t answer.

It’s a close family friends funeral today. He killed himself 2 weeks ago because, unfortunately, the demons he carried around incessantly, finally became too much. 

Rich Merry (37) was one of the kindest and most ridiculous people I’ve ever met. He was a massive part of my childhood and made me feel endlessly safe whenever he was around. I wish we could’ve done that for him. 

Whether he was teaching me how to play pool so I could beat his friends or convincing me to help him play tricks on my brother (his best friend), he always had a smile on his face and always encouraged me to be whoever I was in my heart.

I feel BLESSED to have known him. 

There was one Christmas as a child that my Mum allowed me to invite ANYONE I wanted to Christmas dinner. I think she expected me to invite someone who was family and therefor already coming, but I didn’t. I ran straight up to Rich and asked him to spend it with us. He couldn’t exactly say no, I was quite a persistent child. Christmas morning came and we all gathered round the pool table whilst Mum started on dinner and Rich 7 balled my big brother off the break, my brother is an exceptional player, and he was elated and i quote “Merry Christmas” making a pun of his last name. He continued all day to crack jokes. He made it for me that year. 

His name was Merry and he was just that, but it also couldn’t have been more ironic. Despite his persevering grin, he struggled daily. He was a heroine addict with endless torment from demons that I will never truly know about. I was to young for him to relinquish some of his burdens upon. The last time he was seen (some years ago), he was homeless and begging outside Hereford Hospital. You see, he would never really accept help. He knew he had done this to himself because of his own thoughts and therefor refused to burden his family/friends. I wish he had ... I may not be sat writing this if he had. 

If I am 100% honest, I didn’t know it was suicide until 3 days ago. I assumed it was an overdose. I feel guilty for this thought. How dare I presume someones fate, but I did. 

Knowing now that it was suicide, pains me even more. You see, I have felt that urge, the uncontrollable and unrelenting battering of your internal monologue. A constant reminder of your worthlessness, unimportance and complete emptiness. Life just isn’t worth living. Not even thinking of the damage it will do to the people who love you, not recognising that there are people who love you. Not because you don’t love them, just because your thoughts are all consumed by the demons convincing you more with each breath that leaving this earth behind is the best option. I once wrote about tsunami sized waves of emotion that are all engulfing. That is depression. That is suicide. 

I know he will be missed by many. He was, and will continue to be, so loved by many. I have 1 photo of him (he HATED his photo being taken, a reminder of the man he had become) but I will cherish it. I will cherish every memory. I still remember how he smelt, earthy and grounded, if only his thoughts were the same.