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I’m so obsessed with the thought of you not being here anymore… maybe it’s just me but I now keep flirting with the idea of what it’s like to be gone. I don’t mean I’m thinking of doing it to myself, but I mean when my time comes.
It was unfair. What happened to you so early. It should never have happened to you, you didn’t deserve it and I feel so much for your family because as your father said (I thought about it way before he said it), parents should never ever have to bury their children… it shouldn’t have to be that way. Life is such a bitch and it’s so hard to live normally without wanting to call you to ask how you’re doing because I haven’t had time to do so in so long. I’m sorry…
I used to believe in God. But lately, even before this happened, I’ve been questioning his existence and everything related to religion. Is it an excuse for hope? So we don’t have to be afraid of the end? What did you believe in? Were you scared? It didn’t seem like it. How can you not be scared, babe? I’m fucking terrified, is what I am.
You fought so hard and so long and many people are proud of you. Bradley blames himself; you know… he thinks this is his fault because he coughed on you when he was sick. It’s not his fault. Even If he DID give you his cold, it’s not his fault it caused your heart failure. It was just some freak accident. Well wow, some kind of freak accident eh. I miss you. I talk to you out loud, but I don’t even know if you can hear me. Because I always thought that once you’re dead, that’s it. I don’t believe there’s a Heaven and I don’t believe there’s a better place. You’re dead and when we’re dead, we’re gone. There are no blinding lights, there is no happy music, there are no angels waiting to greet us. St. Peter is not at the Pearly Gates with a big fat fucking book, our friends and Relatives are not holding a seat for us at a divine dinner table, we do not get a tour of Heaven. We’re dead and that is it. No more.But the truth has been said a million times, we are all dying. You are dying, she is dying, he is dying, and I am also dying. But I’m not going to let that stop me anymore. My fingers are tingling; ultimately, I feel that my body will one day shut down and that will be the start to the downfall I’ve already known exists. I’m not going to let the white horse guide me; and I’m not going to just chase far-fetched dreams or ride on the coat-tails of someone else. No, I’m going to make something of my damn self, so when I fucking die they can make a great epitaph and say that I did something with my life. I want to do something more than being a girl scout and sell cookies, or be some grand athlete. I don’t care if I’m famous, or if I ever make that million I’ve been eyeing; all I care about is that my family and friends knew I was something… something worth telling others about.
You did that. You were such a role model to all who knew you. There are just no words to describe how amazing you are because the ones that existing cannot even compare to your greatness. Who else would go and, despite your condition, try and make other hospital patients feel happy? Just your presence is enough to cheer someone up, Jess. You were so courageous and strong, and maybe that’s why you didn’t seem scared of the end. Did you believe in God? If you are even still around like they say you are, why don’t you give me a sign? Or your family? They need to know… that you’re watching over them, and not just under some Priests words. You need to try and comfort Bradley and you need to make sure Ryan moves on eventually and make sure he doesn’t have to be afraid to meet a new girl. You need to comfort Stephanie. And most of all, your parents need to know you’re an angel now, if there is such a thing.
The mornings are the worst. I wake up and the thought of your smile enters my mind. But I know. I know I have something I need to accomplish: to make at least one person’s day. To create a smile on a sad face. To make someone happy. And to make a room full of people laugh. I need to figure out what I want to do with my life. And I need to make something of myself.
I can’t even take a bus to where I need to go every day without passing by one of those two places… it’s hard.
I remember the first time I met you, not knowing what to expect because you’re a girl and I didn’t really get along with our gender back then. But we got along so well and you understood me more than anyone and you gave the best company. I’m sorry if I seemed annoying, coming over every day. I must have been, but I hate it at home and you were the only real friend I seemed to have; whom I could fully trust with my heart. Thank you. Thank you so much for entering my life and making it better when you were around. You made a big impact on my life. I hope you know that.