An Open Letter
Life is so incredibly unfair
It seems that bad things don’t happen here and sometime I wonder if it’s money that shields them or some level of privilege that negates problems with family, money, happiness, whatever it might be. I wish you could have come back that summer despite it.
There are so many things I wish I could have said to you. And I still expect that if I were to send you a message you would reply, that I would see the typing ellipsis as a notification and it would all be okay. Deep down the rational part of me knows that’s not true and I think that’s what makes this more real. That I will never hear from you again, or see you, or hear new stories about you.
I’m so sorry that this happened to you. I should have said what I wanted to when I thought about it, I’ll never regret not. I’m sorry for how things ended with us. I was navigating my own dark and depressive state, and in the end it made me selfish and I pushed you away. You were always so sweet and kind and I took that for granted. I hope that somewhere along the line when we were able to reconnect you forgave me, even if I never got to give you the formal apology I wish I could have. Sometimes it scared me when your heart would wind you up in the hospital, or you drank too much, or I heard stories about other hectic nights. I don’t know if that’s what happened in the end or if your heart was weakened by what it endured all of those years but it doesn’t matter. So many people here love and miss you and I can say that with certainty. Your family loved you so much. I can’t even bear to think of how they must feel right now. I hope that Connor is okay, he cared for you a lot and the two of you had a good relationship. I can tell he is hurting a lot right now and the both of us are still waiting for this to be some elaborate joke, a lie, a plot twist, anything. I understand when they say you first experience denial. And that’s because a few days ago I was speaking to you and now one phone call later i find out that it was our last conversation. Maybe you’re not gone. It won’t feel real till I can let it sink in or we have a service in your name. Maybe then it will start to sting even more, but that is how we get closure I suppose. I hope that you know how much you meant to and how much I cared about you, even if my heart was not always on my sleeve. I thought about that so many nights. Thank you for letting us reconnect those months before this happened. I’m happy you got to make me laugh a few more times, though I wished we had gotten more moments like that further down the road. I wish I could have seen you in person one last time, had one last hug or smile or laugh, instead of over the phone where you couldn’t even see me blush with embarrassment over getting called out for my past mistakes.
The last time I really saw you we said goodbye on the overground platform. If I could have made my young and ignorant self release the weight of that moment then maybe I would have been transparent with you before it was too late. This is a moment I can’t ever forget. Staying up with you till sunrise. Walking through museums, aquariums and parks. Sitting in a playground and driving a boat down the thames. I wish I could relive all of these moments and remind you that they were meaningful. Distancing myself from you was a desperate attempt to make this moment less painful. I now realise that it didn’t matter. Putting up those walls did not save me in the end. You cannot distance yourself from emotion. It is magnetic and pulls you into day dreams and long nights and dissociates you in unexpected moments. Feelings that you try to suppress will always puncture like a deep wound. Now that you are gone these feelings will stay. And I will try to make them into something less heavy as I process what has happened, but I promise I will never get rid of them completely. You’ll live long in happy, private moments that we had. And some day I can look back on them fondly without hurt, regret or mourning what might have been.
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