Dear Beautiful You,
I know this is not what you expected the end to be. It's not what any of us anticipated… I think often of the last day I saw you. Seeing you so willing to talk and share, but at the same time, you were withdrawn and dismissed. I should have noticed it then, noticed death asking you to play. But why did you have to comply? He was only joking. You should have known that. Just because He calls doesn't mean you have to answer. It's not that I am angry. Because I am not, not at all. I am just confused. I am confused how someone with seemingly so much love in their life can leave so abruptly, with no answered questions. It's funny how once you can't get questions answered, they start developing in your head. It makes me crazy. It makes me insanely frustrated. I don't know if that's good or bad. I don't know if labeling it even matters. I'm getting ahead of myself. All you need to know is that I love you and miss you. I know I don't say that enough.
To be completely transparent with you, I am not even quite sure why I am writing you. I believe in spirituality. I believe in God. But I also thought I believed in you. But you left. You left as if nothing were to change. I had to witness first hand just how important someone is as they leave this earth, but also how unimportant they are. It makes me sick thinking about how life just carries on. People will always adapt to tragedy. I realize we cannot live in the past. I realize that. It just does not seem real. There will never be enough we can do to show we respect you.
How do I even know you can read this letter? How do I know you can still know what happens when you leave? How do I even know you are "you" anymore? I don't. It's plain and simple. No one knows anything. And if they say they do, they are lying. I think it's this unsettling unknown that aided me to dive further down into my tunnel of depression. All these factors made it so easy for me to give up, to stop caring about who I was or ever will be. I was satisfied with myself. The thing about depression is that it's not discomforting. It doesn't make you miserable. It gives you a place to tell yourself lies in order to survive. It's a crutch that controls the direction in which you walk. Depression isn't the problem. It's trusting that depression to take you where it pleases. The moment you do that is the moment you lose yourself to that fake reality. It's tragic. Seeing your loved ones you left behind give into that is terrifying. But you already know that.
I think back to the day you decided to leave us quite often. I think back to every decision I made that evening whether it was minor or major. I remember what we ate for dinner when we panicked. I remember rushing through your door. I remember not believing what I was seeing before me on the floor of the living room that played such a key role in making memories of my childhood. The childhood I once had quickly disappeared before me as you laid lifeless. You laid helpless. A part of me knew then you would not make it from there. No matter how many times my fist crashed into your chest with hopeful aspirations, it was over regardless. I hope you know I did the best I knew how. I tried with all I had. I gave it my all and more than I knew I had possible to you. But it wasn't enough. You had already answered His call and hung up with me on the other line. I am not mad. I am confused.
I hope if you can read this you are not disappointed. You are not thinking how pathetic I am writing you a letter that you may never receive. Writing is the only way I know how to express myself in a way I feel satisfied, I feel healed. Writing that, I feel extremely selfish. Part of me wants to throw away this entire letter and stop writing but I know the second I do that, I allow the crutch to lead me once more. I have put away the crutch but I have not figured out how to get rid of it for good. It makes me anxious, yes, but I am working on it. That's the best I can say for now. The best I can say truthfully at least.
I am not really sure how to conclude such a letter that someone may never read. I don't think there is a right way to do it, but I suppose there can't be a wrong way either. I will love and miss you forever. But you already know that. I have a feeling you know a lot more than I grant you credit for. I pray you get this.