WalkingOnDisaster
February 19th, 2013, 12:25 PM
So.. I gotta just get this off my chest...
When I was younger (around 8) I lost my best friend. He was a lot older than me, but was like the grandfather I always wished I had. My grandfather is a drunk drug-addict that only wants to have something to do with me because he knows he's gonna die. But my friend that I lost wasn't like that. He was kind of serious, but light-hearted and nice. He loved to be around my family, and my family loved to be around him. He was quiet, and loved to listen to me talk about stories I wanted to write. He treated me like his granddaughter, and I loved it.
Then, around 6 PM one Thursday in September, his wife called my mom and told us he was in an accident. He was on a motorcycle, and a truck accidentally T-boned him, killing him on the spot.
At the time, I didn't care. I went to his funeral, I went to the family condolence thing, but I didn't really care. I understood- he was gone. He wasn't coming back. I wasn't gonna see him again. But for some reason I didn't care.
Now, though, 8 years this September since he died (it's been 8 years... I can't believe it...) I am depressed. I'm mad at myself for not being good to his wife, I'm bitter at his bastard of a son (excuse my language) who was cheating on his wife and not attending the funeral, I'm angry that I wasn't upset. I don't get why I wasn't upset... He was my only friend, and he died. And I didn't get upset...
I just don't understand.
Thanks for reading. Feel free to post whatever. Caio!
When I was younger (around 8) I lost my best friend. He was a lot older than me, but was like the grandfather I always wished I had. My grandfather is a drunk drug-addict that only wants to have something to do with me because he knows he's gonna die. But my friend that I lost wasn't like that. He was kind of serious, but light-hearted and nice. He loved to be around my family, and my family loved to be around him. He was quiet, and loved to listen to me talk about stories I wanted to write. He treated me like his granddaughter, and I loved it.
Then, around 6 PM one Thursday in September, his wife called my mom and told us he was in an accident. He was on a motorcycle, and a truck accidentally T-boned him, killing him on the spot.
At the time, I didn't care. I went to his funeral, I went to the family condolence thing, but I didn't really care. I understood- he was gone. He wasn't coming back. I wasn't gonna see him again. But for some reason I didn't care.
Now, though, 8 years this September since he died (it's been 8 years... I can't believe it...) I am depressed. I'm mad at myself for not being good to his wife, I'm bitter at his bastard of a son (excuse my language) who was cheating on his wife and not attending the funeral, I'm angry that I wasn't upset. I don't get why I wasn't upset... He was my only friend, and he died. And I didn't get upset...
I just don't understand.
Thanks for reading. Feel free to post whatever. Caio!