𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 ᝰ.ᐟ

⁰⁸lips turning blue

The rain continued to fall as I stared blankly out the window, lost in memories of the past. It had been five long years since that fateful night, but the pain still felt as fresh as if it happened yesterday. I wrapped my arms around myself, wishing I could go back and change what happened.

We had been best friends since elementary school, bonded by our love of music, books and endless conversations about the future. James lit up any room with his bright smile and infectious laugh. Though shy at first, he opened up to me like no one else and I treasured our friendship above all else.

Throughout high school we were inseparable, supporting each other through good times and bad. I remember how excited we were to graduate and start the next chapter of our lives. James had been accepted to his dream school for an English degree while I planned to study psychology. We spent that summer making plans to move in together near campus.

But I soon noticed the sparkle fading from his eyes, an underlying sadness settling in its place. When I asked what was wrong, he would brush it off with a smile and change the subject. I knew something was troubling him deeply but he remained closed off, refusing to confide in me no matter how much I pressed.

Our last summer drew to a close all too quickly. The night before we were set to leave for college, I threw James a going away party. All our friends were there celebrating with pizza, music and laughter late into the evening. But James remained unusually quiet, giving half-hearted smiles. When I pulled him aside to question him again, he hastily wished me goodnight and left early.

That was the last time I saw him alive. Two weeks into our first semester, I received the call no one wants to get. My hands shook so badly I nearly dropped the phone. Through choked sobs the police informed me James had been found dead in his basement, an apparent suicide. The world came crashing down around me in an instant.

In a daze, I packed a bag and drove straight through the night to get home. The image of James' pale, lifeless body on the floor is seared into my memory. I'll never forget the feeling of his cold, stiff hands or the emptiness in his usually bright eyes. The autopsy later revealed an overdose from a deadly cocktail of prescription pills.

The funeral was a blur of tears and hushed whispers. All our friends and family struggled to make sense of how someone so full of promise and potential could be driven to such desperation. But I knew deep down it was partly my fault for not pushing James to open up when I had the chance. The guilt and regret have haunted me ever since.

In the following months, I sank into a deep depression as I struggled to understand why James ended his life and left me with so many unanswered questions. I dropped out of school and isolated myself in my room for days, only leaving to attend counseling sessions. Nothing seemed to ease the ache in my soul or fill the void his absence left behind.

One rainy afternoon awhile later, I finally worked up the courage to go through James' things, hoping to find any clues as to what led to his death. Rifling through his journals and notebooks, I started to piece together what had been tormenting him. Pages were filled with raw, anguished poetry chronicling an inner turmoil and deep sadness he fought so hard to keep hidden.

Among the entries, one in particular stood out - a lengthy piece written just days before he took his life. The raw emotions poured onto the page made my heart clench. James spoke of feeling like a burden, unable to live up to expectations or conquer his demons no matter how hard he tried. He expressed regret that his happiness was forever out of reach.

The journal fell from my numb fingers as I broke down in sobs, cursing myself for not seeing the signs. All those months James battled in silence while putting on a brave face for the world. If only he had shared some of this with me, let me be there for him as a friend should. But he walked that dark path alone, shoulders weighed down by a pain I never knew existed.

That night, through tears I poured my soul into a letter addressed to James, voicing all the things I wish I could say to him one last time. I spoke of how much our friendship meant, all the adventures and dreams we shared. More than anything, I wanted him to know he was deeply loved and not alone, no matter how lonely he felt inside. I begged for forgiveness that I failed to pull him from the abyss.

Putting pen to paper was somehow cathartic. For the first time since that horrible night, I felt a sliver of peace amongst the regret and grief. Although it might never reach him now, I took comfort in the act of sharing my heart with James once more. Slowly, the tears stopped flowing and I was left with only quiet sobs shaking my shoulders.

In the months after stumbling upon James' journals, I found myself rereading our old correspondence often - everything from silly texts to emotional late night phone calls. His wit and passion for life shone through even in the simplest of exchanges. Memories of our friendship gave me solace on dark days as I worked to come to terms with what happened.

Eventually, after much soul searching, I decided to return to school to study psychology as I had originally planned. I wanted to help others struggling with mental health issues, to turn my grief into something positive. In my spare time I also began volunteering with a suicide prevention organization to honor James' memory.

Healing was a long road but staying active helped get me through each difficult day a little easier. I kept James' journals and our letters with me as a reminder to cherish every moment with loved ones, to be more open about struggles and lend an ear without judgment. Most of all, I tried to spread more kindness in the world, as James always did with his gentle spirit and bright smile.

Five years have passed now since I lost my best friend. While the pain of his absence has dulled with time, a part of me will always grieve what might have been. I take comfort knowing James is now at peace, free of the demons that tormented him so. Though we didn't get our happy future travelling the world together, his memory lives on in my heart forever.

On days when loneliness or regret threaten to overwhelm me, I revisit the stories and dreams we shared. Flipping through faded pages, it's like he's right there beside me again, even if just for a moment. I know if James could see me now, he'd be proud of the path I chose. And that's the best solace of all - honoring his memory through living life to the fullest just as he would have wanted.

The rain has finally slowed to a gentle patter outside. Pale dawn light filters through rosy clouds on the horizon, washing the world in a soft glow. A new day is dawning, filled with hope and possibility. I take a deep breath, feeling James' love and support wrapping around me like a hug. Though the loss will always sting, his memory inspires me to keep walking forward.

☁︎

an update? it's more likely than you think.