Dear inhabitant of locker 316
My name is Daniel Polar.
You may not know me, not many people do, but I am in your grade (I mean I assume I am, you're locker is in the 12th grade hall).
I know you are wondering what the hell this is, why I wrote you this letter.
I should explain.. This is not some lame prank by one of your friends.
No, this isn't a stupid joke.
It's a suicide note.
And I wrote you this letter to tell you a story: my story. The story that will soon become the story of my death.
It all started on March 16, 2018, almost a year ago.
A boy and a girl were spending their night in the park, just like every other night, in an attempt to get away from their crappy home lives. They hated everything in the world, except each other.
I feel the need to clarify, they weren't dating, but had been friends as long as they could remember.
On their way back home, around 11pm they were crossing a road when a drunk driver collided with the pair, only the boy survived.
I know, you remember this story, it wasn't even a year ago. The school lit up with safety tips and grief counseling. But what you and everyone else in this school seem to forget is that there was someone there with her, a boy who survived, getting only a broken arm and a broken heart.
I'm sure you figured it out. The boy is the one writing this letter. People told me they were sorry, but I pushed them away. And almost immediately, everything was back to normal in this school. But not for me. Isolated, alone. You all forgot about me.
What do you do if your whole world is ripped away from you and no one cares?
I tried coping. I tried to distract myself with other things, but nothing helped. I barely survived a month before I decided to end it.
But I was angry. I am angry.
And I want it to mean something. I want people to know why I did it.
I decided to do it on the anniversary of my best friends death. The 16th of March, 16 days from now.
Locker 316.
March 16.
3/16.
Your locker is the date of the death of two best friends.
I don't expect anything from you, after all I have no idea who you are, and you might not even know me.
You can tell everyone if you want, and I'll be made fun of and slipped notes telling me to kill myself until I do just that. It wouldn't make a difference really, it would just make my last 16 days that much more enjoyable. (Note the sarcasm, it's hard to be sarcastic in a letter)
You can tell an adult, but in the end the same thing will happen. We both know that.
You could keep this to yourself. And 16 days from now you'll hear the news. You won't be surprised.
Or you can try to find me. But know this: no matter what you do I'm going to do it. No one could stop me. Why waist your time on a lost cause?
I don't care what you do.
I don't care who you tell.
I just needed someone to know.
So I feel a little less alone for my last 16 days, just knowing someone out there knows.
Have a wonderful life,
Daniel Polar
