Throughout his bid, I downloaded songs and made a video type diary so I could give him all of it when he got out.
One of the songs he wanted me to download is called Broken Window Serenade. I listened to it over and over again.
As messed up as this seems; it was my “suicide song”.
Suicide song = the song I listen to on repeat when I’m feeling depressed.
There are a few different songs I have used, but none of those are relevant to this post.
Well, back in January, I decided to come clean to my love about a lot of stuff I had done throughout his bid. I hated myself for it and I wanted nothing more than to get it all off my chest so that he could decide if he wanted to stay with me or not.
He decided that he didn’t want to, which absolutely crushed me, because I was head over heels for him and I couldn’t imagine my life without him.
I had quite a bit of trust issues before him, so I brought them into this relationship and ultimately it hindered me from giving my all the whole way through.
Anyway, I decided that I just would rather be gone than to have to deal with the pain and guilt and the horrible darkness that I knew would follow the break up.
Selfish? Probably.
I mean, geez…look at who all I’d be leaving behind.
Well, I put on Broken Window Serenade on repeat and laid back on my bed.
I won’t go into details, but I ended up in the hospital for…3 days?
I’m not sure. It was in the middle of a snowstorm, so it seemed much longer.
We decided to work things through and I automatically felt stupid and regretful that I would even try such a thing. I would be leaving everyone I loved.
For the first week or so after I returned from the hospital he was so different. He seemed so concerned and everything around me felt weird.
I spend a lot of time thinking back on the things I have done in life and I am ashamed. I regret a lot, but I can’t take it back, ya know?
My point is that even to this day, although I love the song, I can’t even listen to it without a heavy feeling weighing on my heart. It makes me want to just grab him and squeeze him until I have no more strength.
It’s like I’m holding onto life with all my might.
It’s as if…
I have more of a purpose than just to be this girl that cheated on her boyfriend while he was at the lowest point in his life and got pregnant.
Excuse my language…
But ultimately, I was fucking myself the whole entire time.
Although I am and have been 100$ faithful and loyal for over a year now…
I should have been the whole time.
The point is that…
Even when you listen to your suicide song, there is still hope of some sort.
I don’t mean to sound so cliche…
Or like Snow White and Prince Charming off of Once Upon a Time (who are my least favorite characters by the way)
But, it’s true.
What’s that saying?
Expect the worst; hope for the best.
Life has a funny way of handing you challenges.
Keep Looking for more posts.
XoXo
In Love With An Inmate 