Just. Be. Okay.

***This was written back in December. I have since gotten a response from him. He’s just fine. Didn’t have his phone on him for a few days; scared the shit out of me, but he’s okay. ***

Early Monday morning,
you called me angry and piss drunk.
She’d gone and done it again.
Goddamn her…
I was getting tired of her shit, too.
You were hurting.
It was her fault.
Fucking Echo.
I was sick of watching you damn near kill yourself over someone who didn’t deserve you.
You’re the brother I chose,
and I felt,
still feel like,
a protective (slightly-older) sister.

I asked you to cut back in the very least—
lithium and alcohol…
God, no.
“I can’t lose another friend,”
I told you.
“That tattoo on my foot… it may already be in remembrance of three. Please don’t make it four.”
My voice broke;
you stopped mid-sentence.
I explained.
We both cried.
You agreed to try.
That was all I could ask for.
We made plans to walk around the local medical center the upcoming weekend.

That afternoon,
I texted you.
‘Alfa’s online!
No number three.
He’s okay.
That’s great!’
That was Monday.

On Thursday,
when you’d told me you were coming back,
I shot you a text:
‘When are we going walking?
I didn’t expect to go that night,
but I thought I’d get a response.
Only silence.
That was Thursday.

On Friday,
I shot you a Facebook message early in the afternoon asking the same question.
I expected a response eventually.
Maybe we’d go that night with that much notice.
Nothing.
Only silence.
That was Friday.

Today is Saturday.
Now, I’m worried.
I sent you another text around noon.
At least give me a fuck off or something, dude. I’m worried.

I admitted it outright.
You always respond.
The longer I wait,
the louder the silence.
The louder the silence,
the more I worry.

Motherfucker,
you’d better be okay.
I don’t care if you’re pissed at me,
just be okay.
If you’re in the hospital, fine.
At least you’re safe,
though I’ll kick your ass.
I told you if you ended up there again without telling me,
I’d throat punch you.
Just be okay.

You told me if I killed myself,
you’d follow.
Well, Fuckface,
I’m still here.
I’m not going anywhere.
…So you’d better still be there, too.
Just be okay.

If you’re not okay
I swear to fucking God or whoever the fuck is there,
I will crawl down to the depths of the underworld,
kick the shit out of whoever’s domain it may be,
drag your fuckwit ass back out by the collar of your shirt,
and beat the holy living hell out of you… before giving you a goddamn hug (no hetero).

If you’re not okay,
if you’re gone and never coming back, I’ll break.
You’re one of my best friends.
You’ve seen me through some serious shit,
as I have you.
We’re complete clusterfucks…
together.
I need you, man.

Please…
Please, please, please,
Just. Be. Okay.

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Author: Elendarin

Student pursuing a degree in psychology with a concentration in clinical psych. I enjoy writing, watching baseball, foreign languages, and being a massive nerd.

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