AN: Uh...sorry, I just had to write this. I'm going through a bit of shit right now, this is my way of venting. Hope you enjoy.

“I mean, life is all relative, isn’t it? We’re all going to die someday and life…well, if you think about it, life is actually meaningless.” I frowned quizzically at my friend. We had climbed the tallest building in the city and were dangling our feet over the edge, watching people pass by far below us. She had a sad expression on her face; so sad. Like she wanted to cry, but couldn’t because I was there. I wished she would cry; at least then, I would know what to do.

“I could jump, right now…it would be so easy…” she said it so softly I almost didn’t hear it. Maybe she didn’t want me to hear it. But I did. I reached for her, but stopped short. Something told me I couldn’t do anything, and it would be better if I pretended I never heard it. Besides, she wouldn’t do it with me sitting here, would she?

For weeks now, that sad expression had been set on her face. It was etched there permanently. A little sad small and dead eyes that just stared. I hated it so much. So was so happy at one time. I loved her smile and the way she was always a good sport about everything. She was a quiet person, and was never the center of attention. But she always told me she never minded; told me it was better to be in the background.

She was so beautiful. She wasn’t perfect-who was?-but in my eyes, nothing needed changing. She wasn’t skinny or fat, just…it was hard to explain. Whatever she was, it worked on her. Those warm brown eyes she had always drew me in. They seemed to have so many expressions when she was happy. She never wore makeup, but she didn’t need to. She was beautiful without it. And that soft, curly brown hair of hers…it always felt smooth in my fingers.

When, I wonder, did I stop thinking of us as “friends”? When did I stop envying her beauty and start being drawn to it? I wasn’t a lesbian…I knew she was, but I don’t think she ever thought of me that way.

Her hand curled unconsciously around mine. She stared at me pleadingly.

“You’re my best friend, right? You love me, don’t you?” I was taken aback by that. Of course I did, she knew that. But I couldn’t speak. Nothing I could say seemed like enough to tell her just how much I did love her.

She bit her lip and withdrew her hand. A few tears slipped down her cheeks, and she tried hurriedly to wipe them away. I felt a lump form in my throat as my own tears welled up.

I leaned over and threaded my fingers through that hair I loved. I was so close I could smell her scent; sweet, like raspberries. She gulped back tears and stared at me questioningly. I smiled shakily. I almost couldn’t believe what I was about to do. But I needed to do it.

I kissed her lightly, almost teasingly. She responded immediately, placing her hands on my hips. We fit together perfectly, like we were meant to be just like this, forever. And I wanted nothing more than that. It wasn’t until I was in the situation that I realized just how much I needed her. And I needed her to be happy again and smile at me. I needed that, more than anything.

We were inexperienced and sloppy, but it didn’t matter. We would get better at this, together. I couldn’t wait to get started with our lives. After this, would we be dating? Would we spend time together, not just as friends but as a couple? Would we…eventually…be together…in that way? The thought scared me a little bit, but it excited me even more. I wanted all those things. I wanted her with me for the rest of our lives.

She pulled away and smiled at me; a genuine smile.

“Thank you,” she breathed, burying her face in my neck. “Thank you so much. I love you…I love you.” I smiled and answered her. My heart was still light, but beating wildly in my ribcage.

We parted ways when night fell, and I was so giddy I didn’t sleep. All I could think about was her. All I could think about was whether she was thinking of me or not, and what we would do when the next day came, and the next. The possibilities were endless. I wished she could have been there, in my arms, so I could just watch her sleep.

The next day, I went to her place. An ambulance was loading her up into the back and drove away. I stared in horror. Her parents stood on the porch, watching the ambulance retreat. Her mother was sobbing and her father was crying silent tears. I noticed the ambulance didn’t turn on its sirens.

Her parents told me she had killed herself sometime during the night. By the time they found her, it was too late; she was already dead. They told me she wrote a note, and it was addressed specifically to me. I opened the folded note, trying not to rip it with my shaking hands. It said:

You’re the only one worth living for

But I’m sorry

It’s not enough