I've come by this page, from time to time to read the posts, the comments, browse through the pictures, hoping that I would feel Brads presence. But I don't. I never have, and more than likely, never will.
I am feeling very vulnerable right now, but I also feel as though it is best for me to put my self out here for you to read. Perhaps as you are reading this, you might nod your head or agree silently with what I have to say. Of course, comments are welcomed and much appreciated.
Brad and I had a difficult relationship. He was one of my first serious boyfriends. We only dated for a few months when I was 21 years old, and though that doesn't seem like a long time, a lot went down between us that to this day, makes my heart ache badly. Just thinking about the conversations him and I had brings a huge lump to my throat and a heaviness on my shoulders.
Brad and I continued to have an extreme on and off relationship over the course of the past several years. The last time we were in contact, I was living in Portland, Oregon. He and I were talking alot. Everyday, just about. He told me he was falling in love with me. He was talking about making plans to relocate to Portland, move in with me, and hopefully get sober.
The last time we spoke was early January, 2007. He called me while he was high. He was in one of his moods, saying inappropriate things and making me feel very incomfortable. I pleaded with him to stop, to change the subject- but he wouldn't. I couldn't take it anymore, so I stood up to him. I told him to call me when he sobered up. He never contacted me again.
And it wasn't for lack of trying. I called him countless times. I sent email after email- but with never a response. Finally, I gave up after I got the operator recording, "The number you are trying to reach is no longer in service."
A year and some months go by and I get a phone call from a friend. Brad is dead.
I am so angry at him. We were going to make a future together. One that I thought might work. I truly believe he wanted it to work. But he wasn't motivated enough to actually go forward with it.
I'm angry at the addiction, the drugs, the alcohol. I know that the person I was talking to the last time we spoke wasn't him. But it doesn't make the pain go away and it doesn't lessen it either.
I think you might be right, Kris. Time does not heal all wounds. I've begun to think some wounds are too deep to ever heal. I don't know if this heaviness, this pain, will ever go away.
I play the last time him and I talked over and over in my head. I think, 'if I had just stayed silent and let him be an asshole to me, he'd still be alive today. I pushed him away. It's all my fault.' It's agonizing thinking about this, letting my mind linger on the "what if's". It's like I think if I do that enough, this will all go away and I will finally wake up from this nasty bad dream.
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