𝐰𝐝𝐰 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 & 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬

Dear Y/N |Part 1

Dear Y/N, 

Ever since you left, there's something off in the house.

It's like someone flipped a switch. There was a light on when you were here, and then you left. So the light turned off.

I'm sorry for this. I'm sorry for you having to leave so early in life. You were only Y/A! It's not enough. Not to me. Not to us. But apparently, to fate, it was.

I guess you were right. I guess you didn't fit into this world. Into the world of fame, and popularity and fans going crazy on you.

I'm sorry for a drunk man taking your life. I'm sorry you had to leave. You were so excited to see us, you were so excited, Y/N. Now, everyone's to live with the fact that they can't see your happy smile, your expression-just you-anymore.

You texted us, we texted you more though.

We pushed you to come to our house. We had gotten back from tour, and we pushed you.

They shouldn't arrest that man.

They should arrest us.

We texted you saying you should drive over, you haven't seen us in months, it would be amazing to see you.

What if you hadn't said yes?

Would you have died?

Would you have not?

Fate has a way of getting what it wants, and there's nothing you can do to stop it. 

Really, we're the bad guys. We're the ones you killed you. Basically.

It's hard to accept something like this. I still think it's all a bad dream. But this is reality. From my experience of seeing what your life is like, not all people's realities are dreams, or dreams come true.

I guess that's the problem. 

I guess people dream too much. Think too much.

They dream so much, so many fantasies, that they start to live in one-in their head. 

That's what happened to you.

But instead of fantasies, they were horror stories.

You believed them. You believed what they said. No matter how many times we told you the opposite, that your beautiful, inside and out, you believed them. After you died, we looked at the comments. We looked at how bad they were.

They were so descriptive, but not in a positive way, of course. 

I feel terrible. I never knew how bad it was. I never knew how much they gave you.

If I did know-if we did know-we could have helped you. 

I'm just glad you didn't hurt yourself. I'm glad you didn't kill yourself. 

If you did, well, you would've left so much earlier.

It's funny, because the hate was the worst thing in your life. Most girls would kill themselves because of that. But instead, you got killed in a car accident.

The doctors told us that your body was so fragile. Your bones were weak, I forget what the word was. Once the impact came, which was right on your side of the car, your ribs broke. It punctured a hole into your lungs. Blood instantly filled into them. You were dead before the ambulance came. But for the sake for me and the other boys, they tried to save you. 

Did it hurt?

People say death hurts, but now, I'm not really sure. 

It happens, and it's over. But that's that bad part. 

Some people want to experience it, and come back. It doesn't work that way.

I wish it did though. 

I wish you would come back. I wish this was a bad dream, like I said before. 

I wish you would just walk through the front door, and this would all be over. 

I wish your smile would come back. The light that came and shone from your heart even in your darkest days. The happiness you brought us. 

I want that so bad. 

But I know I'm not getting that. 

What did we do wrong?

What happened? I thought everything was fine. 

Even though it was almost a year ago, I can still of remember the last day I actually saw you face to face.

You were in my room. I had made a stupid joke, I don't even remember what it was. It was so stupid, you laughed hysterically. You ran into the bathroom, and did your business. You came back out, still laughing. 

Later that night, we told you we were going on tour. 

I don't know what you were to us. You were more than a friend. But less then a girlfriend. 

Probably like a sister, actually. 

I could tell you were upset. We all did. 

You covered it up though. Like usual, you put on a smile, a strong face, and kept in the tears. You told us that you were happy for us. We were living our dream. 

We're no longer living a dream, Y/N. 

We're living a nightmare. 

If you don't know life without you, this is what it's like:

-Quiet

-Lonely

-Sad

It feels like the Upside-Down. Yes, from Stranger Things. Man, I cannot count how many times you binge watched that show. 

It feels so cold. 

Every night, I walk outside, and look up at the stars. 

How you said they were an angel's fingerprint. They were marks that angels left in the sky. You said that when you died, you would leave a giant one, so it was visible to everyone. 

But I can't seem to find it. 

Probably because you already had a star. You were already an angel. 

But now, you're an angel in heaven. 

You were never big in religion. You believed what you believed, and went with it. I know that, but I hope God is treating you well. 

I hope life up there is treating you well. 

I hope you're not a ghost. You're not stuck in between the worlds of heaven and Earth. If you are, I feel even more terrible. You have to stick with the thought of never leaving this position for a long time. You still see us, love us, talk to us. We don't see you, we do love you, but we can't respond. 

At least you're reading the letters?

You know me, trying to make the situations brighter. But always failing. 

I hope that wherever you are, even if you're alive-which you aren't, I know-I hope that you're finding new people. New friends. I hope your happy. I hope your well. 

I know we aren't. 

But it was never about us. 

It was about you. And I don't mind that. In fact, I'm perfectly fine with that. 

It will always be about you. 

Forever loving your dorky soul, 

Jack