“Blaine, no.”
“Let me finish. You need to hear this.” His voice was steady, but his hands were shaking slightly around the mug. “That winter, I understood, really understood, that I was going to die on the streets. And I was okay with that, more than okay. I was looking forward to it because dying meant I might see you again.”
The raw honesty in his words broke something loose in my chest, and tears started flowing before I could stop them.
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“I felt the same way. Not about dying on the streets, but about wanting to die. There were nights I’d take all my sleeping pills out of the bottle and count them, wondering if I had enough.”Support Causes
“What stopped you?”
“Richard.”
The irony wasn’t lost on either of us.
“He needed me. Or at least I thought he needed me. I couldn’t abandon him the way I felt like you had abandoned me by dying. It was the only thing that kept me going some days. The idea that I was all he had left.”
