My "baby cousin" who was like my sister, my best friend. Born exactly a year apart, raised together, the other half of my whole, the only person who could fully understand and accept the most broken parts of me wholeheartedly. Time dims the bad memories and brings the good memories to the forefront, the mind is kind that way. But today, and lately, I've been really mad. You and your pills and your addictions to self-medicate the pain. I never understood how you could do that. You turned your rage and anger outward as well, lashing out at all of us at times and dragged us through the heartbreaking mess for years and years... while my pain has always just gone inward and quietly ripped my guts apart. We once laughed about how different yet alike we were in that. Still, there was never a time I couldn't call you... and you'd always be there for me and understand me. We had that for each other no matter how life battered us around or how we grew apart and came together. When I spoke at your funeral I said that you were the person that I could say "I could get through this, if only ___ were here" - but you weren't, it was you that was gone and I kissed the urn and tried to send you to God and be grateful you were out of the pain... and sometimes I can do that for you, but sometimes I just resent the hell out of the fact that you could just opt out and I can't. Or maybe you had that extra push of self-destruction and I'm just a big coward. Though you were younger, you always were stronger in everything and I followed you. I know your overdose was accidental and it wasn't suicide, and the coroner confirmed that... but isn't a long addiction to prescription meds and a long history of abuse of them a form of slow suicide? You didn't HAVE to die and you promised you wouldn't ever leave me... but you did. And here I am, fighting those same feelings myself, wanting to die. What a hypocrite you must think I am. My life changed the day I got that phone call. It's been 4 years and it seems like yesterday. Most of my childhood memories, teenage memories, adult pains and memories died with you when you took the last pill that pushed your poor abused body over the edge and laid on that stupid bathroom floor all night dead, and for some reason I was laying on my bathroom floor the same night sobbing my guts out without knowing why, or even making the connection that in different houses I laid right there with you... until a few months later when I realized. Together bonded... even when you left, I grieved before I knew you were gone. You left me. You LEFT me and no matter how I scream or cry or call your name or beg for a sign I have nothing here but SILENCE. And now I'm stuck here without my best friend.