Letters to a Ghost

02/09/2024 --- 01:18 AM

My Ghost,

Do you remember us like I do? I remember the night we met like it was yesterday. It was 2015, and we were having an all-nighter at my best friend’s house. You were drinking with her brother, at 15 like the rebel you were. I was too scared to participate since I was only 13, and I had decided to go to the backyard to look at the stars. You followed me out there and just started talking to me. I didn’t even know you, but you were drunk and spilling all your teenage heartbreak to me. A girl had just broken your heart while you made mine beat out of my chest. You had no idea I was one of her friends.

It was getting late, so I went back inside to lie down and sleep, but you followed me there, too. You got into the bed with me, and we just laid there staring at each other in the loudest silence. I remember thinking you had the most beautiful eyes. You asked if you could kiss me, and I swear I wanted to say yes but couldn’t for so many reasons. So we just laid there, looking at each other until you had to go to work. I couldn’t believe you had pulled an all-nighter just to work at 8 in the morning. I thought I would never see you again. 

We somehow made our way back. Even though we were grades apart, we became secret friends during my freshman year of high school because it’s an unspoken rule that you don’t hang out with your friend’s ex. We were both taking biology, and I would go to your house to help you study, and we would hang out at the park by the big tree on our little red bench. I would sit on the table while you leaned against the tree smoking a cigarette, and I would always nag you about how terrible it was for you. And I fell for you fast. Even though you were still in love with her and constantly asking me how to get her back, I fell for you. It hurt, but I didn’t want to lose you. You became my best friend. We talked on the phone with each other all night until we fell asleep and woke up every morning with the call still on. You texted me good morning and goodnight every day. Do you remember us like I do?

But then you moved my sophomore year, and it broke my heart. My friends eventually found out about our little secret, and poured my heart out to them, saying I couldn’t let you go because I was so in love with you. But I did. I let you go, and I eventually moved on. 

I never thought I would see you again, but you came back a year later, and everything was different. You didn’t talk to me or even tell me you were coming back. We exchanged awkward glances in the hallway, making my heart sting every time. I was over you until you came back. 

But we found our way back. You finally asked me out, and I couldn’t say no. I loved you. I loved going to your house to watch Netflix or learn how to play your favorite game on the PlayStation. I loved going to our bench and just being us. It was the happiest I had ever been. 

Do you remember our first Valentine’s Day? You had the whole day planned. At school, you brought me a huge bouquet of roses and chocolates, and afterward, we ordered food from my favorite food truck. With a picnic basket in hand, you laid a blanket on the grass right next to our bench and brought out sparkling grape juice with plastic wine glasses. It was the most romantic thing that had ever happened to me, and it was just incredible. But nothing lasts forever. You felt like you were holding me back since you were a senior, and I was a junior with big dreams and a bright future. The breakup was mutual and we were okay. You graduated high school, and we lost contact for a long time. 

But we found our way back. Somehow, we always did. I had gotten my own place a few months after graduating, and you somehow ended up at my house. You came over at one in the morning with your best friend to play Uno, and when he eventually left, you wanted to stay. I said you could sleep on the couch or in the bed, and of course, you chose the bed because I basically invited you. 

You were my first. It wasn’t magical like the movies, but it was beautiful nonetheless. It had been building up for years, and we finally found our way to each other. The year we spent together was special. We loved each other so severely, even though everything was wrong. You took me to DisneyWorld and proposed. I said yes, and then you broke my heart. No matter how much I loved you, you cheated, and I didn't realize how toxic we were together until it was over.

You moved to Austin with your family, and I was all alone again. It was the most excruciating pain I had ever felt in my life. There is nothing I can say to describe the pure devastation I felt. I cried for days. I couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, couldn’t breathe. It consumed me. We were too dependent on each other. We didn’t know who we were without each other. There was no freedom, no life, just me and you in our little toxic bubble. 

You left. And I stayed here.

Then I met the love of my life. He is the air I breathe, a love so deep, I can’t imagine losing it. You were my first love, but he will be my last. You changed me for the better. You let me go when I didn’t have the strength to leave, and you have no idea how grateful I am for that. I don’t regret anything about us or what we had. We were the most beautiful of disasters. You drunk-texted me 6 months later wanting to talk and be friends again, but I shut you down. I had to let you go. That was the last time we spoke. 

On January 30th, 2024, the world stopped. My world stopped. You died. You died, and I couldn’t believe it. It couldn’t be true. But that’s a stage of grief, right? Denial. 

It didn’t make sense. You committed suicide. My heart shattered for you, and I couldn’t breathe. It wasn’t real. It couldn't be.

It didn’t make sense. You were supposed to be with your family, working, pursuing that acting career you always talked about. You were supposed to fall in love, get married, have children, and grow old. You were supposed to be here. 

So, why did you do it? How did you do it? Would it have made a difference if I hadn’t shut you down? Did you need someone you trusted to talk to, and I said no? What you did was so selfish, but it was equally brave. I wish it were different. I still can’t think about it without wanting to rip my heart out of my chest just to relieve the pain.

It’s so hard to explain what we were. We had so much history. You were my first love, my first everything. There was a point in time when I truly believed I would spend the rest of my life with you. But you don’t exist anymore. I can’t wrap my head around that I now live in a world where you don’t exist. I can’t imagine you not being alive. 

The only thing I have left of you is the engagement ring. I still have that damn ring, but I can't find the strength to get rid of it. Your mom found your necklace—the other half of my parents' engagement gift. I didn’t even know you still had it. I remember giving mine back to you, but she said you didn’t unless you were wearing it. I hope to God you weren’t wearing it when you died because that means you kept a piece of me with you. Or that you were thinking of me when it happened. I just wish you had called me.

I am so angry at the world, at you, and for whatever caused you so much pain and despair that made you believe it was the only way out. Whatever pit of darkness you were in, I hate whatever put you there. You deserved so much more. You weren’t supposed to die. You are supposed to fucking be here, here in the world doing whatever you wanted to do. Not this. 

You took a piece of me when you left. You left a tiny hole in my heart reserved for our memories, and I was okay with living with that. I learned to live with it and that my first love would always be with me. And now you’re not here at all. I have to learn to live with your death, and I am not ready for that. I am not ready to live my life when you are no longer living yours. 

I am so sorry. I know not to blame myself because I know it isn't my fault, but I can’t help but wonder if it would have changed anything to be friends like you wanted.

Would it have changed anything? Would you still be here? So many questions, and you’re not here. 

You died. 

Goddammit, Brayden. You fucking died. You weren’t supposed to die. 

I hope you’re doing okay now. I’ll visit our bench, maybe talk out loud, and hope you hear me. Maybe I’ll bring you a pack of those nasty Spirits you smoked, or perhaps I'll smoke one myself. I hope you can see how much you’re missed. 

I hope you found the peace you sought because it came with a price. 

05/17/2024 --- 06:36 PM

It’s your first birthday since you left. You would be 24. 

I had been preparing for this day for weeks because I didn’t know how I would deal with it. Your mom posted pictures on Facebook, the ones I had deleted and wanted back. They made me feel so guilty. They were pictures your mom wouldn’t have, ones I had deleted from my phone, which meant they were on your phone. You kept our pictures, even after two years. I feel so guilty that you had kept them and I didn’t. Deleting them helped me heal, but I never thought I would want them back once I had. 

You don’t get to celebrate your 24th birthday with those who love you, or any more after that. You’re not here or there or anywhere. You’re gone, your ashes buried in the ground.

I know it’ll get easier, but I wish it would get better sooner. I wanted to do something for you, like smoke that cigarette, have a Crown and coke in your name, or visit our stupid bench. Instead, I wrote this letter to you, which I thought would make me feel better, but it doesn’t. It just hurts more. 

You did this to me; you made me feel this way, and I want to hate you for it. I want to hate you so badly. It’s so surreal. I don’t think it would hurt as much if you were dying of old age and all. But you did this to you. You chose to die.

I found out that they found you at your cousin’s grave with alcohol and a gun, a bullet already through your head, and my damn necklace around your neck. What made you do it? Was the alcohol liquid courage, or did it happen by accident? It couldn't have been, because why would you bring a gun to a grave without wanting to use it? It’s so hard to think about, but it’s even harder not to wonder about it. 

It’ll be late, but I’ll have that drink for you. Happy Birthday, Brayden.

Even if you’re not here to celebrate it.