In early December of 2016, a close friend of mine went to a sleepover with her friends. During the sleepover, she and I were texting when one of her friends stole her phone. That is where I met Lydia. We quickly became friends and messaged each other consistently after that. Then, in the spring of 2017, I became depressed. She was always there for me. We would stay up till midnight texting. She was the best friend I ever had, and I loved her. As I got worse, she was the only friend who stood by me and supported me. In early June, I found out she was depressed as well. I tried to help her as best I could, and she appreciated it. Then came that night. The night I tried to end it all. She talked to me for hours, and at the very end talked me out of it. She saved my life. But I couldn't do the same for her. By the time I found out she had cut her wrists it was too late. All I could do was sit in my bed and watch my best friend bleed to death. I was powerless to help, and I hated that feeling so much. The person I cared about most in the world was killing herself, and all I could do was watch. Her last message to me was "I'm sorry Ethan". I could have saved her, but I failed. I still feel guilty about that. I miss her so much.
