Don't grieve alone; 14,000 members and growing
I can't stop dreaming about them...
Whenever he's in my dream he's either alive and happy, or hating me.
Whether the dream is good or bad, it feels like it destroys a part of my soul.
I wake up and for a few blissful moments he's still alive. Then I remember it was a dream, and it's like he dies all over again.
I can hear the police knocking at my door to tell me. I can feel the empty horror, I can see the faces of the people who were around me contorted in sadness and disbelief.
I remember calling my mum, and her confusion as I told her that he was dead.
I remember everyone saying sorry to me, with them trying to hide that they were crying.
I remember the tears falling down my face, burning a trail, and them I remember the pure emptiness that consumed me.
For the next two weeks I couldn't feel anything. I didn't laugh. I didn't cry. I couldn't feel anything.
I remember meeting with his sister and Dad, and the first bits of emotions coming back to me.
Guilt. Pure guilt and fear.
What if they blamed me as well?
I love them both, but what if they hated me now?
Or scarier still, what if they still loved me?
I don't deserve their love.
But when I got there they hugged me, they tried to look after me, and I didn't understand.
Why weren't they angry at me?
I deserved anger and hatred, not caring.
Please hate me. Please love me. Please hate me. Please love me.
I remember looking into their eyes and wishing.
I didn't know what to wish for, I didn't know what to think, or what to do, or what to say.
Why do you still love me?
It felt like their love and caring was burning me, and I didn't know which would have hurt more, their hatred or their love.