The day you died, I could feel that there was something wrong. I was emotional. I felt like my body was anticipating grief and pain. Like the way you flinch when you think something is about to hit you. I thought it was only in my own little world, only in my mind, that I was feeling so anxious and scared. There were so many hurdles I had to pass through that day. There were so many personal goals I wanted to finish for myself, but never did I think I had to worry about you. I guess that’s what everyone who mourned you meant when they said that “it’s such a terrible thing.” Yes, it is such a terrible thing that no one was there for you. It’s such a terrible thing that you didn’t reach out for help, because you felt like no one would care. It’s such a terrible thing that all of those people realized only then how valuable you were once they came together to celebrate who you were.
Not like it matters now, but I would have cared. In fact, I still do care. And the thought of you that crosses my mind everyday tears me up from the inside out, because I will never forget how shallow my chest felt that afternoon even before I knew what had happened. I will never forget that blankness I experienced when I was called up and told the news, the voice on the other line choked in a sob.
These are the words I say now, and I can’t help but imagine how they could have helped if you were still here to read them. I am here, alone, in a world where I sometimes feel there is no one to go to. In a world where there is no one to call. I honestly don’t see the difference between the two of us. I do know that you were better than me. You were talented, uplifting, and in love. Perhaps you lacked the willpower that I have. Maybe I just have such a deep understanding of who I am and how I am, and that I mostly accept myself.
In tune with my surroundings, and in tune with the thoughts in my head, I find it baffling how I prayed to my God that day and asked Him for “everything to be alright.” I prayed to Him maybe just as you were feeling how you felt. My heart of plea was in correlation to your heart of plea. But my wish was to get through the empty grief I felt. Your wish was for strength. For strength to do what you did, and for peace wherever you are now.
If I could tell you anything right now it would be that I am here. I would bring out your friends and family and say they are here, too. If I had the ability to, I would show you the inside of your mind and the beauty in your heart and show you how amazing it feels to accept yourself. Being human isn’t easy. Growing up isn’t easy. Dealing with the annoying things in life is not easy, and nobody said it would be.
So to whoever it may concern and to whoever needs this, do not take what I am about to say lightly. Do not take me as some stranger who doesn’t even know you and couldn’t possibly care, so you brush my words off of your shoulders and out of your mind.
You are loved. You are cared about. And someone is always there. If you ever feel like you need to search for strength in what is left of your heart to end yourself and your beautiful soul, I say you should message that old friend you haven’t talked with since you were seven. You should message your aunt who is living thousands of miles away. You should message someone who you have only met through a friend a few times and TELL THEM what you are feeling. Because I guarantee you and I promise you that they will care. And more importantly, someone is always there to help you accept yourself, especially when you are scared and full of grief.
“Everything will be alright.”