My girlfriend killed herself two years ago. I wouldn't say this experience made me grow up in itself. What did was the realisation of the changes her death caused in me. She had been my best friend before for a long time, and was when we sarted a relationship the only person I'd give a damn about. I was very lonely at the time, and she was too, I felt that it was the only person I could met that I was able to understand. I don't know how to transcribe this in english in a way that doesn't sound ridiculous, but I was in a dark place at the time and she really was the only person I could feel genuine feelings for.

I'd manage to spend all the time I could with her and I felt like this would go on forever. She had history of depression, and some other related stuff, but me too. I thought that together we could fight this and hopefully recover fully from the way we were seeing the world at the time.

We were perfectly aware of each other's illness and we were both doing what we could to make the other feel better, but we never spoke openly about it. One day she did, explained to me she knew she was suffering from deppression, and I foolishly thought this was a good sign as she found the strength of opening up to me. This wasn't, and she did commit suicide about two weeks later.

I was 18 at the time and I think I completely lost it. I did a lot of very stupid things, such as cutting ties with her familly (never talking to them again), not talking about it to anybody that could have helped me, as for some reason the mere thought of someone trying to understand what I could feel infuriated me. I started labelling anybody whom I suspected would feel bad for me hypocrits, even if they didn't know anything about what happened.

I basically kept all my sadness for myself, as if I thought I was the only one worthy of feeling it. This was a very dumb move. If anyone here ends up in my shoes, well you know what not to do.

It kept going downhill from there. First I tried forgetting her, destroyed everything that would make me remind anything about her. I even tried for some time to convince myself that she never existed. Then for some reason I thought the pain would be more bearable if I pretended she was still alive and well but she had moved. You can call me crazy on this and you should, but you'd be surprised by how easy it is to wholeheartedly believe nonsense if it makes you feel better. I'd read again and again all of our old facebook conversations, pretending that she would send a new text soon, constantly checking my notification trought the day to see if she had given news. Then I started to use her facebook account to write and send these messages myself.

That is about when I realised how much of a piece of shit I had become. What these events had done to me and how bad I reacted. I realized that my mental health was what I should try to protect before anything else, as without it I am nothing. I learnt that I had to accept the world and its events as they were and should not try to twist the truth to feel better. loosing my mind because of this would be the death of everything I manage to be. I also learnt the hard way that we live life alone, but that we should to everything in our power not to feel it.

Sorry for the wall of text