Summary - When I was clearing out files on my computer, I came across this, in much the same way I discovered 'the joy of becks'.
This is something I wrote after a horrific accident involving someone very dear to me. We'd had a huge argument that day and now they were dying, and the only thing I could do was sit there and watch.
Come back. Please?
I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. But it's too late for apologies now, isn't it?
I can tell.
The look in the doctor's eyes spoke volumes.
How will I face life knowing my last words to you were, 'I hate you.'
I don't hate you. Honestly I don't. You know that .. right? I like you, heck .. I love you. I'm sorry .. come back now, please?
You can have those stupid shoes. I don't care about the stain on my top. I want you back.
I don't hate you. I promise. I am truly sorry. Now please. Come back.
Open your eyes. Please. Just keep breathing, don't stop. Please, come back.
Your face is too pale, and your hands are cold. But your still there, but barely.
Don't leave me, please. I'm only a half without you. A twin on her own. That cannot be. Come back.
Those stitches shouldn't be there. Neither should that cast or the neck brace. You should be laughing and trying to steal my trousers, the ones you love so much.
You can have them, take them, I don't want them. I want you.
I feel sick, I haven't eaten since yesterday when the phone rang .. and I heard .. and realised the last words you heard from me were 'I hate you.'
I'm dizzy. I remember your last words to me. 'I hate you.' … you're dying and you hate me ..
This isn't how it is supposed to be, this can't be how it ends.
I'm sorry. I'm sorry. The same phrase tumbles randomly from my mouth, repeating over and over .. hoping .. praying you hear me.
But you can't .. the doctor said so .. said it was only a matter of time .. said we should pull the plug.
But I can't .. I can't .. I can't … God, I'm sorry. Please .. come back.
I'm helpless, like a swimmer, lost and drowning in the open sea. Helpless.
You're dying. There, I said it. You're dying.
And what can I do?
Nothing except sit here and beg you to come back.
I love you.
Don't leave me.
I wrote that on a scrap of paper with a cheap hospital pen that leaked all over my hands, wrote down the raw emotions that I felt as I watched the scene I described above. It has not been altered.
I should let all those who read this know, that my beautiful twin sister, Christina, had been the passenger in a car involved in a head on collision with an 11 tonne lorry. Aged thirteen. The driver was killed instantly.
God was smiling on me that day.
She's still here.
Five years on.
And I have never, ever, ever told her that I hated her since then. No matter how angry I am.
You never know. You just never know.
All my love,
Harley … ms.dynamite