On my 16th birthday, I had told my dog that I would kill myself on my 17th birthday. She lived for another year, a year longer than she was meant to, my 17th came and left, and now, a month later, she’s gone. I can’t help but wonder if she made herself stay, endure that pain, just to make sure I wouldn’t do anything. Just to make sure I got better. And now I feel guilty. I want to die so badly now but this one thought tells me not to. If I die, she’ll tackle me and lick me back to life.
other3 felt this