Dear Ben,
I thought things were starting to get better. With rehab, therapy, I thought you were finally coming into your own. I thought the anger and self-loathing had left your mind and you were replacing that harmful energy with positive thoughts. Of course, I can’t really speak from your point of view. Especially now, since you no longer can give me your opinion.
I was so proud of you. I thought you were finally getting it together, and I was prepared to be there for you whenever you needed. But now I don’t even get to do that. I don’t get to hear your laugh or stupid jokes, your theories on what Trump’s hair is actually made of, or to see your goofy smile. I miss you so much, and I can’t believe you’re gone.
It’s not just me you left behind. Didn’t you realize that you had so many people that loved you? We still do. You have a family, and a little brother, who can’t stop wondering why his big brother is gone. Weren’t they worth fighting for? The truth is I’m almost angry at you, but then I just get so sad my heart seems to stop.
They tell us at school that drugs are bad, and that addicts are just stupid people who can’t get their life together. They’re never pitied. But I knew you. I knew you weren’t stupid, I knew that you were going places, and I’m sorry you felt trapped, that nobody believed in you. I asked you what was so special about your addiction, what heroin gave you that yourself couldn’t. You responded with that it made you feel better. The once-hopeful person I knew was replaced with shallow, shell of a human. It shocks me how someone who always seemed so happy could be so lost inside.
You would think that after losing seven different friends in the past year and a half that the feeling of losing somebody would get a little bit easier. It never does. I miss seeing you and laughing at whatever you had to say and hearing about what big plans you had for your future.
The truth is, I haven’t talked to many people about how much your death ate me up inside. I'm not good at grief. It just hurts, so I don't like to think about it. It was so sudden, see, and I thought you were doing better. When you overdosed, a little part of me broke because I realized that I had truly lost you, and that there’s no way I can get that amazing kid back. So this letter is to you, my dear friend, as an apology. I’m sorry I didn’t pay more attention, and I’m sorry you felt you had nothing left to live for. There are so many people who miss everything about you everyday; people who miss that amazing kid with big dreams and so much ambition. I’d do anything for him to be alive, and I wish with all my heart that you could come back. Goodbye, and I hope you find the peace that you were looking for.
Lots of love,
Miranda
