Most of the people I would call friends are dead, and I live with the guilt that if I didn’t meet the person I loved, she would still be alive. She was run over by the vehicle that was meant to pick us up, as a romantic gesture. Things were going well, up until that night. When she got hit, her elbow snapped and pierced her chest, and her ear was scraped off by the road. The last thing I said to her was ‘Sorry’, and I’ve never apologised to anyone since. I was in deep in the dark side of life, but then I met the greatest person I’ll ever know. A year later, he committed suicide, and I found out he was the girls brother. I had a friend group of seventeen people, now all that remains is four, because eleven of them went on a tour on a private bus. They crashed and they all died. The other two died of Covid. Last night I had a dream where we were all there, chatting and having fun. It felt so real, but the. It got dark and they were no longer smiling. The one I could make out the most was the girl I loved, and as I stare, I can only think of ‘If I go, will they smile, will everyone smile. If I go, will everyone finally be happy, will I be happy?’. I woke up sweating like crazy and yet; it was freezing cold. I felt true fear then, fear of myself. I’m not sure I’m ok. I know I’m not ok. And yet, everyday I walk around with my false sense of joy and a fake smile because I prefer others not to be sad because I’m sad, I’d rather they be happy and not go through what I went through.