I don’t know when I started talking to him. I don’t know why. I don’t know why I felt like he needed someone to be there for him. I don’t know why I chose to be that person. I don’t know why I got attached. I don’t know why I started to see the world like he did. I felt his pain. I couldn't help him, and the fact that he was in such depression, depressed me as well. He didn’t sleep. He didn’t go out. He didn’t talk to many people, to me that was a real problem.

I asked him to get help; he did, but that didn’t help him. He said as long as I was his friend, he would be okay. Would he really? For as long as I can remember, I never left his side, and I helped him in anything I could: his homework which he rarely did, his drawings (sometimes of me), and things that were small but somehow made him smile. I couldn’t help in his real troubles though; all I could do was listen, and he insisted that was enough. But I knew he lied, because late at night he would call, telling me he couldn’t handle it anymore, that he wanted to give up. What could I have said to make it all better? I didn’t know what to say because I, myself, felt that I couldn’t handle watching him lose it little by little while I just watched and listened. It was too much for me, but I never said anything. I tried; I told him that someday we we’re going to all be okay, and when that day came I would be there with him. I told him that he had a bright future ahead- so bright the world would know him for it. I told him that everyone who hurt him would eventually realize their mistake, and by then, he would have already overcome every obstacle. I told him that I would always be his friend. I guess for him those thoughts weren’t good enough.
I think of him every night. I miss him. He was my friend, maybe my only real friend. But he left me, just like that. Maybe I’ll never see him again. Or will I? Will I ever get to hear his sorrowful voice late at night? Or see his paintings on my bedroom wall? I don’t know. I wish I did, but I don’t. I now hope that he is in a better place. A place that is tranquil- tranquil as a forest. I bet he’ll love it there. I dream of him in a peaceful setting and reminisce about all the great times we had. After all, he was my alter-ego, my artistic side that was crushed by life.