I wondered about how long it would take for me to stop feeling guilt for your death. Even though everyone else have said that there was nothing I could have done, that you would have killed yourself anyways.
Your lips curved upwards but your eyes were so sad, and even though I credit myself to be incredibly observant, I couldn’t see that. What was wrong with me? For over a year and a half, we would wave to each other when passing by and say “hi” when close enough. Not a single encounter went any further than that.
I know I shouldn’t, but I constantly beat myself up inside wondering how much longer you could have lived if I stopped to ask you what was wrong. Would you have graduated high school? Would I have seen you walk across that stage to accept your diploma?
I was flipping through my yearbook a few days ago to find my yearbook quote, and I found your picture. You looked so happy. Your smiled reached your eyes.
Maybe we didn’t end up very close, and I shouldn’t be feeling this awful, but once you get close to someone, no matter how far you drift apart, they’re always a part of your life.