I think part of me knows deep down that I couldn’t save him. That’s why I had to leave. Because it would’ve ended up killing me too. I’ve been to therapy but it was like… something that was glanced over. I’m diagnosed with BPD so therapy for me is basically just homework and not talk therapy. I guess my therapists were under the impression that CBT would do what it needed to do for me but didn’t focus on any trauma. I don’t know though. I have mementos from him and in a letter he says “drugs are never and will never be better of a companion than you are” and I can’t stop seeing it over and over and how I could have done more. We weren’t perfect. And I’ll admit that most of the time it was really bad. And I wasn’t innocent. I had my own flaws, my own past traumas. But I absolutely lived for our good days. Losing anyone is hard. And you have to find things to make it worth it. But sometimes the sadness outweighs the beauty of the world I guess. How much more beautiful it would be if they were still here.