I'm staring at the blade on the edge of the tub, the phone on the cracked tile floor, the pill bottle in hand.

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I'm used to this dream. I've suffered through it almost every night since the night I made the biggest mistake of my life by leaving you and accidentally walking in front of a bus. It always begins the same way.

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Hands shaking, I crack the bottle open and pour a handful of meds into my sweaty palm. Careful not to drop any of the pills into the tub I'm sitting in, I snatch up the bottle of Jack between my thighs. One does down…

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I'm sitting on the edge of the bed we shared for two years after we graduated university together. My knees shake and my breath stutters in and out of my anxious lungs. I wipe my sweaty palms on my dark jeans, trying to stay focused.

I know that you are behind me, struggling to sleep on my side of the bed.

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Two go down…

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You're tossing, and turning, and crying, and there's nothing I can do about it. For months I would try to reach you, to touch you, but I never could. My hands would either go through your body, or you'd become farther and farther away the more I tried to hold you. After hours of nothing working, all I could do was fall to my knees and sob because I had messed up so damn badly.

If only I had known that before I ruined everything.

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Three pills go down my raw throat at once thanks to the epic amounts of liquid courage I'm drowning myself in.

The medication bottle is a little over half empty, so I may as well move onto the next course. Sniffling, I grab the freshly purchased pocket knife, opening it and looking at the silver metal glint in the grossly bright bathroom light.

I may as well take my time slitting my wrists, giving myself the chance to enjoy it.

I have all of the time in the world to die.

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But that was months ago. I've grown accustomed to sitting on the edge of your side of the bed, looking away from you until I have no choice but to turn and face you, normally have a mental break, or moments away from death by suicide.

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Horizontal gets you to the hospital. Vertical takes you to the morgue.

Maybe then I can finally see you. Or maybe I'll be sent to Hell for all of the wrongs I've done. It's gotten to the point where I really don't care anymore. I'm just tired of living this horrid existence with you.

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Tonight's worse than usual. For once, you're not in the room we shared. Instead, you're sitting in the bathroom tub across the hall from me, wearing the black dress I imagine you wore to my funeral. I can't get to you, not when you're worlds away.

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It's at times like this, when I'm so close to death that I can taste it, that I feel eyes that feel like yours on me, trying to keep me from moving onto the next realm. I have to ignore the need to comply your eyes. I have to- I need to leave this awful world that I don't want to be a part of anymore.

I wish that I didn't feel so pathetic when I start bawling, crying out your name as I feel myself slipping away.

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I bang my fist against the invisible force keeping me from going to you when you sob out my name brokenly, clutching your bloody wrists to your heaving chest. I can hear you breaking down, and I can do nothing to help you all over again. I can't handle seeing you go through this torture.

I want to wake up!

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The tub fills with my blood, draining my corpse as I wait to join you in whicher afterlife you ended up in.

I hear your voice softly screaming at me to stop. Little do you know that I'm finally giving up this fight, for real this time.

.

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My blue eyes flash open to see a bland white hospital room. A young nurse checking my blood pressure startles when I turn to look at her to ask what happened. She laughs and grins widely at me.

"Welcome back to the land of the living, Mr. Lee," she says before leaving and bringing in a team of doctors and nurses to check in on me.

My mind can only focus on one thing. "Where's Anna? Where is she?"

As I struggle to get up against the endless arms keeping me down, one deep voice cuts through the other rushing ones. "I'm sorry to inform you so soon after you broke out of your coma, but Anna successfully committed suicide last night."

Another nurse confirms that she saw her bodybag being rolled towards the morgue that morning towards the beginning of her shift.

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I wake up in a blank, white room. I stand, thinking that I have to find you. That's my first priority, finding you, unless I messed up again.

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I try to ignore the doctors as one says that I was lucky. They were supposed to pull the plug on me that morning, but I woke up just before they did.

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You're not here. Why are you not here?

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Little did you know all I needed was a little more time.

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If only I had waited to die,

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then we would have had another chance.