Dear Jacky

4/30

Dear Jacky,

Hi. Sorry for getting mad last time. I just hate the fact that you found it so necessary to just leave. Still, that gave me no right to get mad. I'm sorry. I love you, Jacky. I always have. Even when you thought I didn't. I fucking hate how you love. I hate the fact that you died in pain. If only I was a little earlier. I would've been able to save you die I would've been able to make you better. I wouldn't have left your side, no matter how many times you told me to. I would've stayed right next to you and make sure you knew how much that affected me. I'm hoping somehow your reading is in understanding how much you broke me. You took my heart when you die. You took everything that you ruined everything, Jack. I wanted to start a family with you. I wanted to have a little Janny's running around with a little puppy. I wanted to take pregnancy pictures of you and watch you look up your mom things on Pinterest. I wanted to hold a baby that had your nose and smile. I wanted a boy named Jackson and a girl name Danielle. I wanted to watch you get overly excited at their soccer games. I wanted to spoil you and them. I wanted to make you guys feel like you were the only family that mattered. I wanted you to raise our son right like a mamma's boy so he won't become a fuck boy. I want to raise our girl so she'd be Daddys princess and know how to be treated. I wanted us all to go on movie dates as a family and be the parents we never had. I wanted all of this, Jacky. I know you did too. But I guess you didn't see it as well as I did. Maybe your vision got blurred along the way. I really did love you, Jacky. And right now, if you're reading this over my shoulder or hearing my thoughts or however, you're disagreeing. I know you are. You never believed me when I said I loved you. I still do love you. I always will. You were it. You were her.

Carrie calls me every now and then. She misses you. But she likes to keep things happy. She's still the little Carrie you knew, just a bit more grown up. I hate the fact that she has to grow up and learn that you killed yourself. Who knows if she'll forgive you once she finds out the truth. I don't. Sammy doesn't either. Sammy always calls me after school and on weekends. We're always talking. He's ten now. He's a little confused still, but he knows what you did. He knows that you did it to yourself. He knows you're not coming back. He told Carrie one time. She just told him she didn't believe him. Then she called me. I couldn't help but laugh actually. I told her I didn't know, because honestly, I don't know. I don't know if you'll be back. Maybe you already came back. Maybe you were that baby I walked past yesterday. Maybe you're that butterfly outside the window right now. I don't know. Maybe you're not even back. Maybe you're just sitting in your own darkness and thoughts for the rest of eternity. Is that what happens? Do you just sit in darkness with your thoughts, your sense of hearing still alert and working, but not being able to do anything. Did you hear what David said at your funeral? Did you hear how your mom sobbed uncontrollably? Did you hear Carrie laughing and giggling because she thought you were coming back? Because she didn't know you died. They may not have known you for long, but you made a connection with them. You bonded with them. They cared about you. But you didn't care enough about them. You didn't care enough about me. You didn't care enough about yourself.

I don't even know why I'm writing these letters. Is it to relieve anger? Stress? Sadness? Or maybe to just completely avoid the idea of you being dead? I don't know. I don't know what it is. I don't even know if I'm writing these for my own good. These are for you. They're for you and everything that you are now. Whether you exist physically or not, these are for you. I really hope you're able to read them. I really hope that everything worked out for you. Maybe you got a second chance. Maybe you didn't. Maybe there is a heaven. Hopefully you're rocking out to 5sos with all the other 5sos fam people who gave up. 

God dammit, Jacky. I want to be nice. I want to say that I understand. I want to tell you everything that I feel every second of the day, but I can't. I can't because you're not here. You're not alive for me to tell you anything. And these letters? They don't do much. I wrote before that maybe they relieve stress, anger, or sadness? They don't. They relieve hope. They're getting rid of my hope that maybe this is a sick, twisted, way too long dream. It's relieving everything that I want. My hope. My happiness. My emotions. Everything. After the first letter, I walked to my car and your mom looked confused and concerned. She said Looked drained. As if maybe I saw a ghost. I didn't see a ghost, though. I saw my memories and my future with you disappear right before my eyes. I saw everything I ever wanted and everything I had leave. 

I'm beginning to hate your house. I'm learning new things about it that I wish never existed. Like where you would hide all your candy or food in the corner of your room behind the bright lavender chair. Or where you'd hide from everyone in everything in your closet behind all the long, beautiful dresses I wish I was able to see you wear one day (the tissues covering the floor gave away that one). Jack, I wish you didn't do that to yourself. I know I've wrote it, said it, screamed it thousands of times but it's the truth. I wish you didn't feel the need to totally give up everything you were. I wish you could've seen everything I saw in you. You were beautiful. And I don't mean beautiful, I mean gorgeous. You had the beauty of an empress covered in gold and diamond jewelry that couldn't even compare to your beauty, nor make you any more beautiful. You were stunning, magnificent, thrilling, hair-raising, heart-stopping. You were a thrill. You excited me everyday because you were so unpredictable. No one knew what you were going to do next. No one knew anything of you. You would share little bits and pieces of yourself, but you never fully revealed yourself. You still had hidden secrets, thoughts, demons left inside of your splendid head of yours. But you let all that go. 

You let everything go. Everything. Priceless thoughts. Memories no one could ever remake even if they tried their hardest. Words that will never be spoken the same by any other being. Jacky, I try so hard to think you did this for someone other than yourself. Like maybe you knew it would be better for me, or I don't know something crazy like that. But I know it's not true. I know it isn't. You did this for yourself. When I said, "Start doing things for yourself" I didn't mean do this. I meant drop some people. Block them out. Don't let anyone hurt you. I guess, in a weird, horrible way, you did. I don't know, Jacky. I don't know anymore. I just don't know.

Love,

Danny