A year ago today, I texted Bethany for the last time. I never could have known it was my last time. I've wished so many times that I had texted more, called her, asked more questions; but what was there to ask? How was I to know she would kill herself the next morning? I didn't know that was the last day. I won't know next time either.
You always wish you could know, but you can't. You look back and wonder about signs, but you never know. And that's just what it is to be human, to not know a whole lot of imprtant stuff.
