Dear Julian,
I’m lying in my bed
awake
at four o’clock in the morning
and I hear a dull
thud
outside near the front door.
I get up to investigate,
open the door a crack,
and find you
drifting in and out of consciousness,
slumped against the side of my house,
crumpled in a pool of your own vomit
with deep
crimson colored blood
gushing out of your mouth and nose.
Your white button down shirt
is soiled
and torn in such a way
that I can see your ribs and your sickly pallor.
The only color in your skin
comes from the brownish-pink track marks
dominating your forearms.
Shock
has rooted me
to the spot where I stand.
Even though
this is not the first time this has happened,
I am more alarmed than ever
because this time
you look as though you have been beaten
within an inch of your life.
I force myself
to find the will to move.
I kneel next to you
and take your limp wrist in my hands,
desperately feeling for a pulse.
It comes
weak and irregular,
but it comes just the same.
I try to drag you inside
to try and fix you,
but I’m not strong enough
to support your weight.
So I just sit there
with my face buried in your chest,
sobbing
and wiping the mixture
of my tears
and your blood
out of my eyes.
It has been almost
three years,
and yet that night
is
still
fresh
in
my
mind.
There is a crippling sadness
that hits me at the most inopportune times.
I can sit here
and hate you
and blame you
and call you selfish
as much as I want,
but I know that it’s useless.
I know that
at a certain point
you couldn’t control it anymore.
That was your curse.
That was what killed you.
You’re not around anymore
to sit with me
and talk
and listen
and just be close.
And now that you’re not here
I miss you so much I can barely stand it.
And when the one person who made you the happiest
can’t do anything anymore,
what’s left?
I know that you’ll never read this,
but I want you to know that
I love you.
I know my letters
may sometimes make it seem
like I don’t,
that I’ve forgotten
your kindness
and your words
and your friendship,
but I haven’t.
I don’t think I ever will.
I love you so much,
and I miss you,
and I’m sorry.
Tess