As I opened the letter, I saw a piece of intermediate paper inside it, folded, with a picture of all of us in a group, smiling happily after the graduation. My eyes form little teardrops, holding the photograph in my hand. Tears start to fall on the photo and my jeans' fabric. Some tears of happiness, and tears of sorrow. I realize he's no longer with us. And all he has in his letter is to thank everyone for being in this period of his life. That letter was a whole journey of his life. I read the content of the letter aloud but not too loud for other people to hear.
My dear, dear best friend, Michael
I'm sorry if you're reading this, but I'm dead. I'm long dead, I've been long, long, long dead. I'm so, so sorry for not telling you what I've been feeling inside. I'm very sorry. I don't want this to be turned into a thirteen reasons why moment, because I never had any problems with all of you. but, this is the only suicide letter I've written and I want everybody to read it. Jay, Mikayla, Karah, and you, Michael. I can't forgive myself for leaving all of you. I'm very sorry for not fulfilling my promise that we'll all grow old together. But don't worry about me up here, I'm just people-watching, especially watching you guys grow into the person you guys want to be. I feel sorry for Jay. He always goes to me when he's down, I want to see him happy every time. Can't believe I haven't confessed to him yet. But our friendship would crumble so I didn't. Please tell him I liked him, Michael, Please do it for me. Make it my one last wish. I loved him so much. I never wanted to leave him. Believe me, I never did. I enjoyed his company as he enjoyed mine. I really wished there was a glimpse of us. I really did wish for it. Thank you for being there for me all those years. I love you guys. I really do.
From, Marco Schmidt.
June 25, 2025
As I fold the paper back to its original form how it was put in the letter, I put it back in, keeping the picture of all of us in the graduation picture. I look back at Mikayla, she looks at me with a pensive face, she looks focused on thinking of the past events that happened back when all of us were in the twelfth grade. To be fair, I never really wanted to think about that anymore. What's past is past, what happened is what happened, it's bad to think about those anymore, but since it came up, we have no choice but to cry over it and think about it again, is it worth it? No, it's not worth the pain and sorrow. But it can't be helped because you just need to talk about it once more to the person you wanted to talk to get comfort and closure. The human psyche is weird.
"Hey," I say to Mikayla, "When did Mrs. Schmidt give the letter to you?" I ask her.
"Oh," she answered me, still looking pensive from hearing the words I uttered from reading the letter, "She gave me the letter two days ago." She answered my question, "But I can't really believe that we forgot Marco's death anniversary two days ago, huh." She added
"I guess we forgot on purpose because we don't want to think about it anymore, but it'll just make us feel like assholes to Marco because we forgot about him, but I bet he's laughing at us right now from up there. I'm sure he won't mind but the guilt will haunt me forever thinking that we forget it on purpose." I said, hoping that it would make sense.
"Yeah, I guess so." She replied
As we stared at the empty restaurant table, thinking about how things would be now if he were still alive, but if I think about it more and more, it'll just hurt me, but I can't help it. The sounds of my mind are basically loud enough to be heard by someone in a five to ten-foot vicinity of our table, the sudden arrival of Mikayla and I's food broke my thought's illusion of a perfect life that we would've had if he hadn't gone away early.
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After the whole meetup thing with Mikayla, we both went home for the first time without saying goodbye or a goodbye hug or even a goodbye fist bump, we just went home, straight home, she went home by train while I went home using my car. As I drove, I try my best to hold back the tears that have been in my eye sockets for so long. I wanted to cry but I couldn't. I really wanted to. But I couldn't. I really can't. I have to stop the tears. I need to stop the tears that are coming out of my eye, and as I reach the parking lot of my dormitory building, I park my car in the usual spot where I park it. I stop the car's engine, taking all the things that I brought, which are only my backpack, phone, car keys, and dorm keys. Then closed the door of the car and clicked the lock button of my car key. I ran, I ran up the stairs going up to the fifth floor of my dormitory, not bothering to take the elevator, I ran because I'm upset, I ran because I'm lonely, I ran because I don't care anymore. When I reached the fifth floor, I ran to my apartment, I opened it and then went inside, slamming the door behind me, and going straight through the living room where Louis is, I noticed that he looked at me, but I didn't care, I ran straight into my room, closing the door behind me and locking it. I start breaking down in tears. I drop the floor, teardrops falling on my already sticky floor. I stand up and walked over to my bedroom wall, punching it five times, it didn't hurt me one bit. I cried harder. I can't get over his death. He meant a lot to us. I just walked over to my bed and laid down, going under my blanket, I hear Louis knocking on my door, he genuinely sounds worried Are you okay in there? He asked, but I don't want to answer him, I just want to be alone. I'm not okay, he stopped knocking after three times. I'm glad he stopped, but even if I told him what was wrong, he wouldn't care anyway. He's an asshole. I just want to be alone. I don't want to do this anymore. I really don't want to feel this overwhelming flood of emotion anymore. It felt as though I thought that I saw his ghost. Was that closure, or was that just sadness in me?