Hey... it’s me.
I don’t even know how to say this. How do you even start? I never thought I'd be standing here, trying to find words that just don’t exist. Words that won’t make this any easier. Words that won’t make this real.
Harrison’s gone.
I... found him this morning. He... I don’t know how to say it. He’s just... he’s gone. He did it. He tied a belt in his closet, and now he’s gone. Just like that. And I can’t stop thinking about it—how I didn’t see it coming. How I thought he was doing better, thought we were doing better. But I missed something, didn’t I? I didn’t see it. I didn’t hear it.
God, how did I not hear it?
Why didn’t he come to me? Why didn’t he say anything? I would've done anything to stop him, to pull him back, to save him, but I wasn’t enough. I couldn’t be enough. And now he's gone, and it's my fault.
I was the one he loved. I was the one he trusted. So why did I let this happen? Why didn’t I stop it?
I can’t stop picturing him there, hanging in the dim light of his closet, his face so still, like the fight had finally left him. I don’t understand. How do you look someone you love in the face, hear them tell you they’re hurting, and still not get it? How could I have been so blind?
I’ve been thinking about all the moments I could’ve changed it. The nights we stayed up talking, the times he seemed off but brushed it aside, saying it was nothing. And I believed him. I believed him when he said he was fine. But how could I have believed him when I knew he was lying?
I didn’t want to see it. I didn’t want to see that he was spiraling, that everything was getting worse. So I didn’t. And now he’s gone, and I can’t even cry. I can’t even let myself feel it.
The worst part of all of this? Telling Hadassah. She didn’t deserve to hear it. Not from me. Not after everything Harrison put her through. He hated her for no reason, for things she couldn’t change, and I had to stand there and tell her that he’s dead. That he’s gone, and there’s no taking it back.
I watched her face crumble when I told her. She didn’t say a word at first. She just looked at me, confused. Like she didn’t understand why she was crying for him—crying for someone who had treated her like shit. And yet, she was the only one who shed a tear for him.
No one else did. His teammates, the guys who laughed with him, worked with him—they just shook their heads. They moved on. But Hadassah... Hadassah cried.
Even after all the hate he threw at her, all the times he made her life hell, she cried. I don’t understand it. How can she still feel anything for him? Maybe that’s just the kind of person she is. She’s got that big heart, the kind that doesn’t know how to hold grudges. The kind that hurts even for the people who hurt her.
I should’ve been the one to cry. I should’ve been the one to break down. But I couldn’t. I was just... empty. There was nothing there. Nothing but guilt. Guilt for not being enough. Guilt for letting him slip away.
I keep asking myself why. Why didn’t I hear him? Why didn’t I stop him? Why wasn’t I there when he needed me the most?
It’s my fault. I should’ve known. I should’ve been able to save him. But I didn’t, and now he’s gone. And no matter how hard I try, I can’t forgive myself for that.
