I Sold the Gun in May

I sold the gun in May.

It was a gift. From a relative. Someone who said "every man needs a gun."

A Smith & Wesson .38.

I don't know much about guns, but I knew how to use that one.

It sat in my sock drawer.

Unloaded.

Bullets outside in the garage.

There was that day.

That day in June over a year ago.

All I could see was loading the gun and pointing it to my head and everything over in a second.

All of it.

I didn't do it.

I'm still here.

Almost exactly two months from that day, I met you.

And … the dark friend was still there.

But, I didn't even think about the gun.

Until.

Until you were gone.

On our second date, you asked me how...how would I commit suicide?

Funny you should ask, I thought. I'd just been thinking about it. Every fucking day.

But when I was next to you, I couldn't see or hear or think about anything else.

And that was just the second date.

The longest consecutive time I've been happy in my entire life came in that short time I was with you.

Everything else was a moment, nothing longer than a single day.

Then you.

I thought. A year ago or so … that the worst thing in the world was feeling nothing at all.

Was being so numb that nothing felt like anything. I wasn't angry or sad or tired or happy or anything.

I begged to feel, to cry, to hurt, to … anything.

Now. Now I know pain.

NOTHING has hurt like this.

It's … well, it's my fault. I'm an adult. I could have gotten help earlier. Or chosen to respond in a different way.

There were times... in 2012 and again in 2016 -- where I felt like I should do "something."

But, I reasoned, why? There was nothing else... no one else. This was as good as it was going to be … so. Why?

Then … you.

And … and I would give up every single second I ever felt happy for one more minute in your presence.

As much as I desperately want you in my life in every single way... here's what I want: I want to know you are OK. I want a text every now and then. I want to see you in my messages.

I dream... I dream of touching you or looking into your eyes one more time.

But. I'm used to not having it all. I'm used to just a little bit.

And... well, I REALLY loved you. I really LOVE you.

I know I've never truly loved before because nothing has ever hurt like this.

Being numb. Being dead to the world. It hurts.  It hurts …

But … this.  This world without you.

NOTHING has hurt like this.

So, I sold the gun in May.

That's the easiest way.

And I'm scared of heights, so a bridge or building is out.

So, I'm here.

Alive.

Sad.

And I'll be here.

Because I sold the gun in May.