The winter my best friend died and I was too angry to care

See what happened was we had a fight like most friends do and in an attempt to not speak ill of the dead I will not go into detail over what happened. I’ll just say this; we fought and I resolved to never talk to her again and I didn’t and can’t anymore. Anger and Pride. What a terrible duo they are. Cruel and relentless.
I came home after giving a mid term exam and I check my facebook, there is a message from somebody that I used to know asking me ‘Did you hear about S?’
I don’t bother to reply.
A day later, another message from someone else ‘Omg did you hear? I can’t believe it.’
The God awful person that I am, I jumped to the most spiteful and worst assumption. She was probably doing something stupid and got caught.
I chose not to reply. Again.
Third times lucky I guess or in this case not.
A few hours later as I open my books to study for the next exam. I go through pre preparation rituals. Checking my facebook one last time. Another message. ‘I don’t know what to say or think. I feel so lost and speechless.’
That’s when I start to wonder whats going on. So I ask the first guy who messaged me. His reply, ‘ didn’t you hear? She had a heart attack she’s dead.’
Considering the type of person he was I refused to take his word. So I called a few other of our mutual friends. For once in his life I guess he had been honest.
I don’t think I have ever in my life felt so lost and tiny. Is it weird that the first emotion I felt was not sadness? It was guilt. Raw, unadulterated guilt, gnawing at my insides threatening to rip them apart.
And then I cried still not out of sadness but out of fear and disbelieve that God could take her away before I had had the chance to clear my conscience. What a cruel and selfish human being I am aren’t I?
The next day another exam day at school, was another eye opener. She had been with me in my old school so none of my new friends knew what had happened. I tried to go on normally but I finally burst into tears and hid my face in my arms and as my ‘friends’ asked what happened I told them. They all muttered the typical ‘Omg, we are so sorry.’ And then?
Silence.
And then?
Laughter.
My agony forgotten in a matter of seconds. And these people were my supposed best friends. I saluted God on his sense of humor that day.
As the days passed and I realized that there would be no consolation from anywhere except for the loving embrace of a teacher, who I will be grateful to for the rest of my life. I kept the emotions I felt about what had happened locked up inside and let them out at nights when it became too difficult to bear.
And you know what? As I have with everything I have been through, I thought I’d get over it. I’d forget and move on but I haven’t.
As the weeks passed, I started having dreams in which I’d be at some place and she’d be there and I would ask ‘You are alive?’ and she would say,’Ah yes.’
If anything ever bugged me more than anything was how her parents would be going through it. She was an only child. But I was and am still too chicken to go meet them.
Stress brings out the worse emotions, I have heard. Two weeks before my CIEs, in the middle of the night, I sat in my room with a blade in my hand ready to end the misery I was in. Sleep deprivation, guilt, regrets and remorse had taken their toll on me. But for some reason I didn’t. I came out of that with just a thin cut on my neck.
The next day, I called a friend and broke down. His words could not make any difference but I felt slightly lighter knowing someone knew what was happening to me.
The night before my first CIE, I sat in a corner of my room, crying my eyes out as I read our last chat. Those cruel words, written by two people totally unaware of what was to come. And then I started typing. Apologizing, telling her I missed her and what not. As if it would make a difference.
And this led to the beginning of me sending her multiple messages on facebook and begging for a miracle reply like a deranged lunatic. But I guess that was one chat that would never be seen.
I still clung on to the hope that I would get through this. But if I am to be honest, I haven’t and the way I have been going I won’t.
Sickens me to admit this but after a while I realized what I had done to myself. Mental pain was a state of euphoria for me and I have not been able to explain this in any other words. Any sort of distraction away from thinking about her was a joy unlike any other I had experienced since that terrible day. Sickening as it was I didn’t look for distraction in positive things rather I looked for misery greater than what I experienced everyday to get her out of my head.
Whispering what a terrible person I am every night to myself has become a ritual. Finding books and movies that were bound to make me cry was an obsession. Going online and finding accounts of the terrible ordeals people go through in life was a hobby. Anything and everything that makes me think of things other than her is a blessing no matter how terrible and screwed up it is.
I weaned myself off some of the things (thus the past tense).
I used to get irritable and angry more often and more easily than most people but soon I started realizing that I was getting angrier and small minute things brought huge outbursts. And every time I would teach myself to control my temper but I just couldn’t. It was either that or take the anger out on myself and kick myself over and over again for my mistake.
The next year 2014 in December when her first death anniversary loomed close. I started losing it again. Two days before it the Peshawar attack happened. Two days after the attack I stood on my school stage and gave a speech a stupid speech on resilience and what not. My heart yearned to tell people what a terrible thing unforgiveness and anger is. What a beast guilt is. How short life is. But I could not. Maybe I would have found closure on that day but instead I droned on about resilience. I cried openly that day but I did not expect anyone to come to reassure me, I had learned my lesson, and they did not. Just one person.
The cycle of sleepless, tearful nights continues. I think of maybe meeting her parents but I am too big a coward for that. The thought scares me. Only tears and more remorse will follow and I have enough of that everyday. This made me bitter. Bitter because I thought God was cruel, bitter because I never got the chance to say good bye or I forgive you, bitter because I am left with this terrible thing to deal with all on my own. I wonder how bitter it made all the other people who cared about her or maybe they are better people than me and they made their peace with her and God before it was too late.
Anger is a terrible thing. I realize that now. I just wish I could control it too. Every time someone says ‘your temper won’t do you no good’ or ‘being stubborn gets you nowhere’ it feels as if there is a dagger in my heart and everyone who says it twists it savagely once. Oh don’t I know that already. Don’t I die a little everyday thinking if only I could have learned to control it before. If I hadn’t been such a pig headed idiot. Maybe I wouldn’t go through the agony I go through everyday. I guess its a lesson in itself I am trying to learn to keep my anger in check, to be more compromising and forgiving. Maybe it will prevent a future repetition of such a thing but it will never lesson this pain.
This was not an attempt to gain sympathy. It is a last ditch effort to find closure. I hate myself everyday thinking that some people think I am a good person when in reality I am this awful creature. Maybe this attempt at being honest will help. If it doesn’t I guess I’ll just learn to live with it till God takes pity on me.

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