I promised myself that whenever I bring this up that's it's not pity. The names have been changed to keep the parties involved anonymous.

Dear Jane,

Seven years ago was the last time I had the privilege of spending any time with you. Your death came at the worst time in the wake of our adolescence. I remember the games we'd play when we growing up as neighbors and I prayed everyday for the longest time, asking God to watch over your family and close friends after you passed on.

I wanted to help you on that night, probably more so than ever, because I cared. The more I revisit the memory, the sad truth of the matter is that we were both 'gone' because we were caught up with the party atmosphere that we were surrounded with at the moment. Unfortunately, I couldn't stop you and you made fatal choices that led to an untimely death.

My Grandmother always says... "Parties are fun, but they're not worth it once drugs come into the equation." I always knew that she was right, but that didn't stop me. I, actually, you and I collectively were looking for excitement and adventure. And we would go through any risk or tribulation to live them out. We had no boundaries, at least we thought we were invincible. Again, reality set in all to quickly.

I never write anything seeking pity or sympathy. Everything here is an absolutely truthful account. Somehow, in spite of being high, I remember everything...

The 16th...

On April 16, 2011, five days after your 16th birthday. You overdosed on what I believe was cocaine. I, as previously stated was soaking up the party atmosphere. Realizing that nine was enough, I went to the bathroom and washed my face- attempting to sober up as much as I could. Before I left you, I took the powder and gave it to someone else to dispense of... they didn't.

Upon my return, I realized that you hadn't stopped. Here's a break down of your final two minutes with me.

12:44

You took your final line.

12:46

You looked at me, looking as fragile as ever. Body trembling because you've taken too much. You try to get up from the stool were you were sitting, but you fall back- your head landing in my hands and your torso being held by someone else. 911 was alerted and I departed- wishing to stay, but knowing right then that I couldn't stay and be question for fear of being questioned.

It's so sad obviously that your life ended so soon, but It's hard on me because my dad had passed on a year-and-a-half before from a heart attack. I regret that I missed your funeral and I'm angered by the notion that I could have done something more. I've delved in drugs since your death. Now, I'm sober. I'm trying to quit smoking right now and it's hard to do it for me, but I promise to do it for you.

Therapists and psychiatrists have always disregarded my feelings stating that "It's in the past, get over it, here's medication etc" but we both know it isn't that simple. As I close this letter, I want to inform my readers that if they know somebody going through addiction or grieving that it will get easier with time- though you won't ever fully heal.

RIP my angel. Taken far too soon

Love always.