Ashley Sabo
1980 - 2004
(Taken from her journal)
Friday,April09,2004
I am: Ashley Sabo
I think: everything will be better when I`m dead.
I know: that I am unloved
I see: nothing
I need: to be dead
I want: to be in the ground, finally at peace.
I have: what i need to suceed
I wish: I would just do it. Not think about it, and dream about it, but just fucking do it.
I love: nothing anymore.
I hate: only myself
I miss: what could have been, but will never be.
I remember: the hell that was and is our life.
I wonder: what would have happened if.... there can't be anymore "if's" or "next year"
I fear: nothing
I hear: the voices in my head screaming. For once I want silence.
I smell: nothing
I crave: death
I search: for peace
I regret: being born
Friday,April09,2004
I am: Ashley Sabo
I think: everything will be better when I`m dead.
I know: that I am unloved
I see: nothing
I need: to be dead
I want: to be in the ground, finally at peace.
I have: what i need to suceed
I wish: I would just do it. Not think about it, and dream about it, but just fucking do it.
I love: nothing anymore.
I hate: only myself
I miss: what could have been, but will never be.
I remember: the hell that was and is our life.
I wonder: what would have happened if.... there can't be anymore "if's" or "next year"
I fear: nothing
I hear: the voices in my head screaming. For once I want silence.
I smell: nothing
I crave: death
I search: for peace
I regret: being born
I know you're out there, somethere out there, and I miss you like Hell. But I think you'd be proud of me, Ashley, by all the things I fought through. I fought because I knew you would want me to. You would have wanted me to get the treatment that you never got and to not screw it up. So I tried my best, Ashley. I really did. I spent many months there in that place, trying to get my life back together so I could function. And I'm doing better.
Thank you for pushing me ...
Contemplating suicide.
I don't think that what you are doing when you get so close to idea of your own death really qualifies as "contemplating". Contemplating implies a logical, informed process. It implies sober, careful thought. Thinking seriously about suicide is not this. It is a mad rushing toward the end of suffering. It is being so tired that you cannot possibly take anymore. It is being so sick and broken by the pain that anything, anything else sounds better. This is how it was for me. I have been there more times than I care to admit.
My best friend. She was there and I hated it. I don't know if the way I approached this topic with her did any good. She'd say I am good for her to talk to because I don't tell her how horrible she is for even thinking about it. I didn't say 'think of everything you would put your children through.' I didn't say 'you have so much to live for'. It is true. I didn't say these things. Maybe I should have, but I didn't.
I did say that it will be better, or at the very least be different. You will not always feel exactly this way. I promised her that. I also told her that I know that when she is so deep in the dark you can't believe that you will ever be in the light again, no matter how many times you hear it. I have had too close of a love affair with the thought of my own death to tell her she was crazy for considering it. I know the taste of oblivion too well to pretend that the idea is preposterous.
I'd tell her I would miss her terribly and I hope and hope and hope that she would not leave me to this world alone. I hated to think of my life without her. This is the thing I could say and actually, with all of my heart, mean it.
I miss you sooo much, Ashley.
I did say that it will be better, or at the very least be different. You will not always feel exactly this way. I promised her that. I also told her that I know that when she is so deep in the dark you can't believe that you will ever be in the light again, no matter how many times you hear it. I have had too close of a love affair with the thought of my own death to tell her she was crazy for considering it. I know the taste of oblivion too well to pretend that the idea is preposterous.
I'd tell her I would miss her terribly and I hope and hope and hope that she would not leave me to this world alone. I hated to think of my life without her. This is the thing I could say and actually, with all of my heart, mean it.
I miss you sooo much, Ashley.
It has been several years since you made the decision that was to change the world. It certainly changed mine. Since then I have stood mummy-like in the centre of a spiral of questions unanswered, just the same questions ringing louder in my ears.
It is a strange sensation. Every so often there is peace there as another beautiful memory, washes over and through me and I smile through my tears. Like the time we were at Dooley's and it was 4am and you guys absolutely insisted I ride in the truck with you and NOT ride my bike home. I was so stubborn and you guys were so adamant so I gave up and then when we tried to get the bike up into the back of Dawn's truck, took 4 of us girls to get that thing up there. I still don't see what the big deal was. I didn't live that far away and I've rode home in the dark before. But I guess after having a few drinks in me you guys were just looking out for me. I mean, I was a little tipsy, LOL ...
I could go on. If every pair of eyes capable of reading was to read these words, would it make a difference? Will they help to silence those unanswered questions, those things I'll wish forever that I'd said to you? No.
What is it I want to say? I am sorry. I am sorry that I was careless and ignorant and self-centered and too caught up in my own addictions and eating disorder issues? I am sorry that by your action, you became my teacher - the teacher of so many painful lessons, when I'd much rather you'd stayed my best friend, my roommate.
Actually, that is what I really want to say to you. I miss you. It hurts, and in my aching condition of guilt and self-loathing, I have hurt other people. It is to them that I owe an apology. The guilt and hatred towards myself that came as a result of your death .... I'm sorry. I know you wouldn't want me to be doing this to myself. I know it wasn't my fault and there was nothing I could do.
It was the way it was. It is the way it is. And that is that. We make the choices we have to make. Yes, we may look back and realize how wrong or foolish we were to have taken the route we did, but the fact remains we can only make today's choices with today's information, wisdom, and providence. I realize all this now - but heaven alone knows how I have stretched the tape of my mind's eye, rewinding and re-playing those last few conversations, imagining what would have happened if... Writing to you now - I feel overwhelmed with emotions. I remember the chilling silent darkness that surrounded me the moment you died. My first instinct was to go with you. I wanted to be put in that ground next to you because I didn't want to live in this hell either.
But I couldn't.
Actually, that is what I really want to say to you. I miss you. It hurts, and in my aching condition of guilt and self-loathing, I have hurt other people. It is to them that I owe an apology. The guilt and hatred towards myself that came as a result of your death .... I'm sorry. I know you wouldn't want me to be doing this to myself. I know it wasn't my fault and there was nothing I could do.
It was the way it was. It is the way it is. And that is that. We make the choices we have to make. Yes, we may look back and realize how wrong or foolish we were to have taken the route we did, but the fact remains we can only make today's choices with today's information, wisdom, and providence. I realize all this now - but heaven alone knows how I have stretched the tape of my mind's eye, rewinding and re-playing those last few conversations, imagining what would have happened if... Writing to you now - I feel overwhelmed with emotions. I remember the chilling silent darkness that surrounded me the moment you died. My first instinct was to go with you. I wanted to be put in that ground next to you because I didn't want to live in this hell either.
But I couldn't.
I remember the bloodstains in our apt. It was the bright, dark red of death. I walked into the bathroom, caught sight of my reflection in the mirror, and punched it. The blinding white light of terror and the wish that I could experience physical pain severe enough to dull my awareness of my soul's anguish overwhelmed me. I cursed you and threw profanities at my reflection.
I hated myself.
I had lessons to learn. I would have to get up every morning, even when I had not slept all night and wanted to bury myself beneath the covers and cry and cry every tear that bloated me. I would have to look at the reflection staring back at me and, eventually, I'd have to learn to love it.
No simple task. Only now that I am beginning to see goodness in the eyes reflected in my mirror do I see how deep my guilt and self-hatred has run. Suffice to say that I have not been kind to myself. I have tried to escape in stupid ways. I have avoided my own company. But the arms of God have held me gently, so I have escaped any serious harm, and through it all I have grown.
I am not angry with you. Please know this. Know that I swear to take the palette of colours that you gave me with each of the memories we shared, and paint a beautiful picture of my life.
So good-bye.
Not to the memories, but good-bye to the pain and the prison of self-loathing that was my life.
Your best friend FOREVER,
Danielle