Notes

What I should have said to you.

I never gave you a proper burial. You had one, of course. You had a whole funeral. You have people visiting your grave. But you were states away and I was trapped. I can't decide if me being there would have stopped you or if it would have never mattered. I can't decide if you wanted me to save you when you said April 30th or if you already had your mind made up and saying it would solidify it. I know that even when my ex took my passwords I should have reached out. I should have never ignored the signs. Because they weren't signs. You flat out told me and I couldn't and didn't help. It's been 3 and a half years now. It will be 4 soon. But I don't get to post about you on your wall or message you because your family didn't know about me. Your girlfriend didn't know about me. Were we even really friends? My family knew about you. My boyfriend knew about you. Why am I mad at you? Did you spend your last moments hating me? Why do I keep making your death about me? There weren't signs to miss. There were your texts saying the exact fucking date and your texts saying how sad you were. It wasn't me wishing I knew, because I did. I didn't think anybody could actually go through with it. I hadn't dealt with it before. You had a girlfriend and a family. You told me they didn't care and that you don't want her around. But Jake, she visits you. Jake, your mom posts about you every day. But Jake, I miss you. I remembered our video calls. Remember? You were in the shower? You had race cars and you drove them along the shower rod like you were a kid? You can't remember, you're dead. But I remember. I picture it every time I'm in the shower. You were 15. You didn't get the chance to graduate. You didn't get the chance to be a legal adult. Jake, you didn't get a "sweet 16". That's for girls I know. You didn't get to watch your little brother grow. You didn't get to drive. You didn't even get to drive. You didn't get to marry anybody. You didn't get to be able to vote. You can't say hi to your friends anymore. You didn't get to see the new technology. You didn't get to do so much. You didn't get to heal and be happy. You died sad. You died alone. You didn't get to win. I didn't get a last phone call from you. I didn't get clarity. You know who told me about your death? Your ex. I didn't get to attend a funeral or have support. I was alone. I had never felt as alone as I did then. Maybe that's how you felt. That has to be how you felt, right? There can't be any other reason you'd actually shoot yourself. You have to have so much willpower and sadness to shoot yourself. Your brain doesn't just let you shoot yourself. There are warning signals that shoot off in your head. It says don't do that, you'll hurt yourself. You were not made to shoot yourself. You have to literally pass through those warning signs. You have to ignore your own body caring for you. That isn't something a happy person does. I know I've written this same thing so many times and I can probably find a million variations of it alone just sitting in my room somewhere. I know I've told you I loved you many times. I know I've said how much I cared a million times. But this is just a computer and you are not here and your body is already deteriorated. If your soul is here watching me cry and hearing the voice in my head typing this out, please understand that I did love you. Me being trapped in a toxic relationship is a fucking excuse I should have never used. Because I got to live. I got to move past it. And you didn't. I wake up every day knowing I don't want to be alive anymore and I take it for granted. But you aren't going to wake up anymore. You won't ever get to see another sunset. You won't get to wake up and get ready for school anymore. You don't get to smile anymore. You don't get to be excited for a new movie or a new video game. You get to just be a memory. Do you know how happy your brother would be to see you? Or your mom? Or your grandpa? Do you know if they wished for you to walk through the front door or to walk into your room and see you sleeping and knowing that it was just a horrible dream? Because just to let you know, I wished that day was a dream for so long. I hoped that I was just having another nightmare. But I was living in that nightmare. And the first person I thought to tell about your death was you. How fucking ironic. I can't even decide if I get to be sad. I never met you in person. But if it didn't matter to me, how can I write so much? How can I still be here thinking about you at exactly 3:30 am? I'm so tired, Jake. I need you. You helped me sleep. I'm alone now. You made me sane. I was only 15 feeling the love of a 42 year old for somebody I thought could be mine but never got to be. We could've had a whole future. But I don't blame you. How could I? I thought about killing myself every single day. I still do. It's less urgent now but I couldn't even walk past knives or bottles of pills when I was 15. The only difference between us was that you did it. And that you were there the day I wanted to so bad that I had a knife to my wrist. You were the only one there. I didn't let you know how much I needed you. I should have. But I make everything about me. I still feel you. Which is dumb because you have so many people to watch over, why would you be here? I don't know. I don't even know if I believe in that kind of thing. But if you are here, I do love you and I am seriously so sorry I failed you.