But I'll be okay.

Who left you when you really needed them? It's a tough question to answer. My first thought would be him. Every cell in my brain wants me to say his name. To scream it in anger and to weep at the words he gave me so prettily wrapped in disgust. I want to say his name.  But was he meant to be there in the first place?  In so many ways, he tried to distance himself from me. Tried to leave, and tried to tell me he didn't want any part of what was a box of love and happiness we called friendship. What I called friendship. I was naive. I texted when he told me not to. I called when he didn't answer. I even made gifts and sent food because I know he wasn't eating. As a way of saying I'm here for you. Always and forever. He didn't have to go through it alone, he never did. Not when I was there.  I speak so highly of myself.  For a minute, it all worked. The text, the smiles, the 'im here'. He came back, and he told me how important my actions were. And how must it meant to him. He told me I was the only one there for him and it was us against the world that didn't understand us. That didn't understand my anxiety. That laughed at his depression. He told me I was his best friend. I speak so highly of myself. He told me his secrets and I told him mine. He told me his dream, oh what a beautiful one. He told me to be a part of it and I smiled with joy and told him he could be anything he wished. He was different. He was lost. He wanted so much but was given so little. I related to that. And I think a lot of us do. He just had the courage to show it. He lacks feelings of doubt. He put himself out there and the world laughed and ridiculed him.  For a moment, we were best friends. I don't blame him for leaving. I don't blame myself either. We were both ill. He more than me but I followed close after. Maybe it made things worst for me, maybe I was just too occupied with him to see that I was slowly drowning. He was occupied with staying afloat and I thought I could give him my vest.  I could swim, I told myself. He couldn't.  It was neither of our faults. He wanted me to leave. K didn't need me the way I needed me. I took on the role of a friend who cared because the thought of waking up to a tragedy killed me faster than my depression ever could have.  Who left me when I needed them the most?  It wasn't K. He never took on the role. He never had to. It wasn't his job. It was nobody's job. He had bigger battles. Battles he had to fight alone. So why did I get battle scars from it? Why did I leave the battlefield wounded and bruised? I didn't deserve that. What he did to me. Or maybe, what I did to myself. He didn't deserve it either, what he is doing to himself. Neither of us deserved it. The trauma, the pain, the fears.  Neither of us deserved it. Who left me when I needed them the most? I've spent hours, days. weeks, months, thinking about what had happened. I've cried, screamed, panicked, laughed. Some days I wake up and my brain tells me he is dead. I breathe and my anxiety tells me it's my fault.  I should have persisted. I should have  said : 'K, I'm sorry.'  'K, you did nothing wrong.' 'K, you're my best friend.'  'K, I love you.' He didn't want any of that. 'V, you were enough.'  'V, you didn't deserve that.'  'V, you tried your best.' 'V, I love You.' Who left me when I needed them the most? I did.