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This pain is not my own.
It does not belong to me.
Sometimes a day will go by without an ache in my chest.
Sometimes his memory will slip my mind.
But his name always finds its way back into my life again.
How easy it is for me.
To forget until I am reminded.
How hard it must be for his family and friends.
He is nowhere but his absence is felt everywhere.
I saw how he was struggling.
I wanted him to get better.
Why didn’t I ever step in?
Because it wasn’t about me.
His pain was never mine.
Now mine isn’t his.
I didn’t know him.
I didn’t even know his last name.
All I know is how much I miss him.
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This is beautifully written, and reminds me of when someone at my school committed suicide. I didn't know him personally, but it made me feel sick to realise how much I could empathise (I wasn't in a great place either).
All I remember about him is his first name, and how beautifully he played piano.
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