I Miss You

It’s so awful to look out over the valley and feel sick, because I am actually starting to realize that you’re gone, and you’re never coming back.

Come back, please.

R*****, I still can’t believe you’re gone. It doesn’t feel real. Even after I read the article in the paper today, I still can’t come to sense with the fact that you’re not alive anymore. Everyone says it will hit me tomorrow in school. They’re probably right. But what if it doesn’t? What if I remain numb? Then again, this whole situation has been centered around what ifs. I just wish someone could have helped you. You had the brightest future in front of you and now I can’t even come to sense with the fact that you hung yourself. Every time I try to picture you alive, well, and happy, I picture you hanging in your bathroom instead. It’s awful and I can’t get it out of me head. R*****, I know you’re sorry, I know you are, I am too, I just wish I could have told you. I wish you could have told me. I wish I would have told you how special you are before you left. Though, I know if we would have made up, we would never talk like we used to. I just wish I could hear you tell me that I’m beautiful, or watch your face awkwardly light up as I pass your locker in the morning yelling “Perkisaur!”, just to make you smile. That luminous, absolutely beautiful smile. You were so haunted. I still can’t believe you’re gone. Come back, please. We need you. 

RIP RJP

 

I’ve never actually been one to write poetry. Actually, I am God awful at writing poetry. On Friday, I was given an assignment to write four different pieces that are to be presented to the class on Tuesday upon our return to school from the long weekend. I’ve been dreading sitting down to write these poems for class. The presentation is not that much of an issue: I’m not fearful of my class, but I can never organize words correctly. I write very freely, and any concept I create in my head finds a difficult time creating structure. As I sit here now, writing my first entry onto this blog, I stare at the picture I am entering in my writing as well. To the far right is my ex-boyfriend. We were together for almost a year, and while that time spent together was rough, we loved each other endlessly and to this day, care very much for each other. The other two boys in this picture are his best friends. The one sitting in the middle is a very talented drummer, who my ex is in a band with. The one farthest to the left commit suicide yesterday morning. Three days ago, this boy, who I have been friends with since the start of my freshman year, said some very mean things to me and many other girls in our school, all of which were his friends. He lashed out non-intentionally. I was aware of many problems that he had going through his head, because in a small school like ours, no one has a private life. We’re like one big family, where no one has business of their own.  These words he had said hurt me to the point where I broke down crying in school, something a girl like me does not do. After being approached by a counselor, I was forced to admit the things he had said to me. I was so angry at him for what he had said to me that day during lunch, the last words I ever said to him were “You’re such a fucking dick.” As the school began to investigate the bullying incident, they came to the conclusion that he had other issues and no kind of discipline would teach him a lesson. No one should have been trying to teach him a lesson, but no one knew this, because he would talk to no one enough to get help from his suicidal thoughts. I became very angry with my school for not taking any actions against the things he had said, but while the things he said were mean, I still found his smile to be radiant and his smart Alec comments to amuse me even in my anger. As I left school Friday, I passed his locker and was filled with rage towards him for the things he had said, and I recall very clearly squeezing the hand of my current boyfriend to suppress any anger that was inside. I never would have thought that would be the last time I would see him. He hung himself in his bathroom the following morning, somewhere between nine and ten o’clock. I received a phone call from my best friend around 7:30 that night, informing me of his death. As nearly an hour of collapsing, hyperventilating, and screaming at the top of my lungs, I made this status update on Facebook: “When I met you last year, you were this crazy kid always sending me pictures of your pottery and showing me new kinds of music I had never heard. In this past week, a lot of thing happened between the two of us that shouldn’t have, and I really wish it wouldn’t have ended the way it did. R*****, I’m so sorry. I wish I could take this back. Thank you for every smile and every laugh. Despite anything that has occurred this week, I love you, and I’m sorry ♥”. I was educated later that night by my ex-boyfriend that this boy had the intentions of apologizing to me when we returned to school on Tuesday. I realize now that he had told my ex this because he knew that my ex would tell me. He wanted me to know that he was sorry. I hope he knows that I am too, and I love him. Now, I reminisce behind old Facebook chats, text messages, and recordings of his voice. I still cannot believe that he’s gone. 

Robert, I am forever grateful for all of the lives you have touched. I hope you know how many people love you. While I would assume you began to regret your decision in the very last moments when it was too late, I know you are at peace now. You will be missed by so many people. There will be no normal day in school from now through the rest of the year. The hardest part is seeing a picture of your beautiful face and picturing it distorted by lack of oxygen or your neck sliced and strangulated from your all too devastating demise. I will always cherish those first Facebook messages where you constantly told me how beautiful I am. Even moment I ever spent with you was a special one, and I really hope you know how much I love you. I love you and your pottery, your alternative music, your death metal, and your “scientical shit”. Everything about you. You were one of the most beautiful people in the world. I wish someone could have helped you. Every single one of your friends feel guilty because we all wish that someone would have been us. 

Rest Easy, RJP. I love you so much.