You left me, James. Not even a text or a message to say you were ending it. I know I wasn’t the best friend I could have been… should have been… But I wish you’d at least tried. I would have tried to help, even though I was so far away. Maybe I could have talked you out of it for a little while… maybe it would have been long enough for you to realize that maybe suicide wasn’t the thing for you. You could have had so much.
I feel so selfish, sitting here and thinking as I write this, that maybe all the things we talked about so often could have happened. That I could have maybe made a difference so this wouldn’t have happened. I know I wasn’t that important to you. I may have been just that girl you talked to when you needed to talk, that you had to talk out of cutting and suicide of my own.
I’m afraid that I may have added to your depression… And I hate that. I want you back. We were gonna meet each other one day. We were gonna hang out and talk…. Sure, we skyped and texted and called… but that’s not the same.
I MISS you James. I feel awful for not trying to contact you more… The last time we talked you said yo felt as if I didn’t care about you anymore. That’s not true. I really do care about you. I still do. I’m not sure about religion, so I can’t rely on that to make sure you’re ok wherever you are now. I know you were a good person, a wonderful person, who cared about people. Yes, you’d made mistakes. But everyone does. I know about the depression, and anxiety… we shared that. We had so much that tied us together… I don’t know where it began to fall apart. I’m too late in trying to reconcile this now. But I need to at least say it.
I think I actually loved you. I mean, I already knew I did, as friends, and I said it a lot. But now I mean LOVED you. Like… I wanted to be with you. I may have mentioned it jokingly, or maybe even seriously once or twice. I may have seemed like such a naive girl. But I don’t care. I never wanted to be with anyone the way I wish we could have been. I know you really didn’t feel the same towards me. I was just the friend. Maybe it was because I was young enough that you thought I couldn’t fully understand something–what, I don’t know. Maybe it was something else.
James, I miss you. I love you. And I really wish I had called you before you killed yourself. At least to say it one last time.