I find my thoughts drifting back to when I was 14. Five years, and so much has changed. It seems like I have lost everything- my friends, my family, my spirit- and gained only addiction, a sense of unease, and a feeling of emptiness; almost like something inside has been removed and I’m looking for something, anything to fill the space left.
I figured out today what is missing, and now I know that hole will always be there. What occupied that space inside of me has been gone for years, and it is the one thing I can never get back, the one thing that has hurt inside for years- my best friend. It feels like only yesterday he was still here, giving me the longest speeches on absolutely nothing, waking me up by pouring ice in my bed, playing his drums while I strummed along on my guitar. His name was Cole, which fit him so well, with his almost white hair and pale skin, his icy blue eyes that pierced your soul and drained you of speech. Him and I grew up together in Sydney, playing frisbee on his parent’s lawn, walking my dog to the beach, and crying together when my father died and his died the next morning. He died by his own hand, a shotgun blast to the head. He exited this life as he had lived it- violently, but almost calmly. His last words were to me on the phone only minutes before he ended his life:
“Shy, you’re my best friend. I always want you to remember the good times, and how we spent every waking minute together. If something ever happened to me, I wouldn’t want you to blame yourself. People are so angry sometimes that they do things that people say are accidents, when in reality they were intentional. The same goes for being sad. Never let go of what you have, because if you do, only memories will remain.”