My Fault She Killed Herself

It is my fault she killed herself. Crazy talk. Nonsensical logic. My first thought is to say, “Yes, it is SO your fault,” and roll my eyes. Luckily, I have had life-training, so I am wisely silent, keeping my Traitorous eyes, hidden and down, as they are non-controllable. If I had called her back, If I had texted her. If I had agreed to wear the bunny costume. If I had not argued with her, If I had realized, If I had noticed, If I had thought, If I had suspected, If I had…. It is not your fault, it is probably not her fault either. The only thing right now that might work Is a gentle shoulder tap, or a hug. She is not a hugger, but I am. I put my arms out, and she turns into a 4-year-old. I hold her as she sobs, sure it is her fault. I am so glad I have had life-training. It is not your fault, never works. Serves as gasoline on the fire. If I had gone over there, If I had hidden the gun, If I had hidden the pills, Yes, it is your fault.