It's starting to make much more sense now.

All the songs you sent at 1 am, the ones I never even bothered opening because I was too busy.

Your obsession with art that portrayed nothing but death and destruction.

Your jokes about killing yourself that we passed off as “ dark humour “.

You drifting away in your own world and us seeing that as just another one of your phases.

Your constant last minute change of plans and “ you guys go ahead. I don’t feel like it. “

All those times we asked you how you were and all those curt ‘I am fine’s that never made us ask further.

It all makes much more sense now.

Now that you’re gone.  

(M.I.)