The Suicide Note

Hey X, it’s me.

I don’t really know what to call this. If I actually end up sending it, I guess you’d call it a suicide note. As of right now, I’m calling it a friendship letter. An ironic juxtaposition, isn’t it?

You’re my best friend, X, but I’m scared to tell you, and thus I never have. I don’t want to tell you because I don’t want to have to look at your face when you lie and say that I’m yours as well. I know that I’m not your best friend, but that’s okay. I’m happy simply being your friend, and I’m happy that we get to hang out so often. I’m happy I found a person who likes me for who I am, who is so similar to me and enjoys my company. You’re always there, you know? I can always rely on you to want to be around me, and I can always depend on your support or witty comments to cheer me up. Time and time again I have been in a bad mood and have texted you looking for a distraction, and time and time again you have pulled me from a depressed slump simply by talking to me. It’s like a superpower, it really is, and it makes me all the more grateful I have you in my life.

There is so much I want to say but I don’t know how to say it. I admire you deeply, for being so strong and so intelligent and so put-together even though you insist that you aren’t. You are the best of us, and— god, you just mean that much to me, you know? You are the one constant in my life, and despite the fact that I feel like I’m drowning little by little, but you are always there for me. Not out of obligation, but because you are genuinely my friend. And while I’m putting it all out there, I might as well let you know that I think of you as my family. I love you so much, and despite the problems I have you make my life a little brighter every day.

There are so many memories I have with you that keep me grounded, that make me smile when I am stewing in a depressed fog. Our trips to Barnes and Noble are memories that I cherish, specifically when we sit in the manga section for hours simply talking, or when we sit at a table in the café and draw. Watching TV shows together are fond memories as well, and fonder still are the simple memories, the ones that may seem small but mean the world to me. Laying on your carpet and talking about everything that comes to mind. You narrating video games to me, not seeming to mind that I’m forcing you to talk for hours on end. Our tradition of pizza trips, which make me so happy to think about. They mean a lot to me, and I hope they hold the same weight for you.

As I’ve mentioned, I’ve been struggling lately to pull myself out of a slump. It gets harder and harder, and though I recognize my self-destructive habits, I can’t stop myself. I started cutting again. I stopped taking my medication. I stopped scheduling therapy appointments. I don’t know what I’m going to do next, and I’m scared I will do something I’ll regret. I’ve been thinking about death a lot, X, and yeah, that's why I'm writing this.

I don’t know when I’ll get that bad again, only that it will happen, soon, I think, so I want to write this now to let you know how much I care about you, and how much I am going to miss you when I’m gone. I care about you so much, and I am so proud to have a friend as talented and warm as you. You are going to do incredible things when you get older, and whether I am alive or not just know that even now, I am infinitely proud of you.

Please don’t forget about me. Goodbye. I love you.