It's rough, but I'm proud of it, so be gentle.

xxx

xx

x

You were the most frustratingly ambiguous person I'd ever met, and that was probably the reason I never really understood you. But, your mindset was so different, so abnormal, no one took the signs seriously. And it shocked me when it finally happened, when it finally came crashing down on us. Me, the person who spends more time with you than your own god-forsaken family. And you didn't even leave a note. No, I'm sorry, you didn't even leave a sentence. No explanation, not anything. All the police say they found on that faded-beyond-repair old desk of yours was a pathetic piece of paper with one word. "Good-bye," it said. Good-freakin'-bye. But at least you would have gotten your closure. I should have expected this though. You would leave everything the perfect mystery. You would have everyone who knew you-- loved you-- wonder fruitlessly why you had done this. And as an added bonus, you could leave the world in a splash of vibrant red. Your favorite color.

Now that I think about it, you were always so self-focused. You would get your tragic Shakespearian ending, as you imagined, I'm sure, but we, the people around you would get your dust. Can you blame me for being happy just to spite you because for this one time, you didn't get what you wanted? That all you got was a hospital bed and an IV?

I'd only ever been to a hospital once before this, the first time being for you as well, now that I think about it. You and Sam were playing that "Who's the Biggest Idiot" contest, and Sam had you climb a tree, in a wife beater, in December. You had only gotten so high up before you fell right on your left leg. You were staring at your cast mournfully and I heard you say, "I could have reached the top, man. I should have reached the top." Why was it so important, I had wondered. Could I just assume you wanted to fall then?

You know, I almost didn't come today, but my mother could only hold me back for so long. Two months is plenty of time. And you know my mother. She still reads those horribly depressing articles about the stupid things that teenagers tend to do. So, for me to have a friend like you? Heaven forbid! Who knows what kind of influence you've had on me. I might try the same stunt. Needless to say, she doesn't want me anywhere near you after today.

It surprises me just how fast time moves here, even in a hospital. Life moves all around, ignorant of the significants of me being here to see you. Of how proud I am for getting here, at your room door. But I'm scared to go in. My fists are balled, my teeth clenched, and I feel like crying. Oh, god, do I feel like crying. But I won't. The over powering smell of cleaning products radiating off the floors becomes my excuse as I try to relax, and open your door. And there you are, turned toward me, when you heard the knob's scream, I'm sure. Surprise is spread across your features, but something is different. Your eyes are glazed, and I can feel your detachment. Or were you always like this and we had all been too blind? Did it only take circumstance to reveal it? You aren't as pale as I imagined you to be, and I hate you for not looking like the victim, for looking healthy, for looking sane.

Your lips part, and the first words out of your mouth is a hollow, "Hello."