Sunday, September 20, 2015

Someday, I'll Forgive You

Dear Steph,

I was dancing around the house today to a band we both liked and, frankly, I looked like a complete moron. It was ridiculous. So of course, when I was being my most campy, The Fella came in and busted me. I believe I was mid-leap, singing "Taaaaaaaaakkkke meeeeee ouuuuuuut!" when he walked in and my first thought, my literal first thought, was "ohmyGod, wait til I tell Steph."

But I can't tell you. I can't tell you anything. I can't introduce you to The Fella. We can't hang out. You can't teach me to make the perfect Bloody Mary, like you promised, or see my apartment, or scritch Lizzie B because you're gone.

It is so fucking sad.

I remember when I found out that you were gone and my immediate, panicked thought was "That's not right. I just talked to her," because I felt like I should have known if you were in that much pain, or in that much trouble. But I didn't, and I didn't, and you're not here for me to tell stupid stories to and you should be. Dammit, you should be.

Because I still don't know how to make the perfect Bloody Mary, and because a bunch of people loved you.

Including me.

So I dedicate all of my humiliating dance party moments to you. And every time I hear Atomic Tom I think of you. And every time I reach out to someone who might be having a bad day it's for you.

I wish you had said something, anything. Because then I could forgive you for being gone. 

I wish I could forgive myself for not helping you. Maybe someday I'll forgive both of us.

Until then --

Love -- all of the love, and all of the hugs,


If you are in pain, if you are thinking that you need help, call a friend. Call a family member. Or reach out to these guys:

You are important.

You are loved.

You are needed.

I promise.

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