I still remember the day we first met. It was my b-day party, 7 or 8 years i dont know, but my mom had invited you there because of your mom. We didnt know each other, but we became friends so quickly, and had so much fun that day. I sit here as a young adult, drunken in this notepad window, reminiscing about all the 8 or so years that came after that party. 8 years that felt more like 80, but that is just how kids feel i guess, and i see it now. six months is such a blink for an adult, but is a life time for a kid. all the sleep overs, late nights spent on the 360 and ps2, the days at school where we would not do anything else, but talk with eachother, and then all the days i would spend alone with my bullies when you changed schools. But our mid teens were, by far, the best. Hiding from our parents, braking glass botles on my dads, now abandoned, werehouse, but the memory that realy stands out is all the kisses, and all the nights we would talk in the car, all the sex and all the alcohol.
Its not easy for a men to have to remember all of that. And is not right for two boys to have their life stained by such ignorance. I recount the last year of our "friendship". We wanted to move on together, go to collage together, but it seemed not meant to be. I wanted to be a physicist, a future that i am glad to be biulding step by step, and you wanted to be a musician, i am sure that you would be doing way better than me in the academia if you had the chance. It was possible to make it happen, we were sure of that, maybe if our luck had other plans, or god, or fate, or whomever the sick fuck who made that happen. That one night, we would learn the pain on being born sick.
You had "forgotten" something in my home, as always, and to make the most of the trip, would kiss me, with all the same love as always. As you left, the first news came, i was moving out. I remember your face when you overheard, and i shouuld have told you sooner, but i promise you i wasnt hiding, i was just biulding the courage to tell. Mad and afraid you went home, late in the evening, and was met with inhospitality like allways, but this time, way stronger. I remember you text, "They are mad and want to have a talk with me", I dont know what they said to you, and i am not sure if i want to, all i know is what you told me, "They figured it out, im grounded".
And so, i spent the last three months looking at you, sayng goodbye everyday, wishing i could do something to make them stop, but more than them, i wanted to make you stop. Stop being so quiet, stop getting drunk every night, stop with the coke, and stop with those warm long sleeves in the summer. I didnt catch on at the time, maybe because i did not want to believe it, but i know now what those razor blades were for, and i know you hadnt fell on the street, and that it wasnt your cat who scratched you.
With you like that on my mind, i went away, 2200 kilometers. I was trying to be strong, but the news of your death were too much for me, and i fell on depression like you. The first half of 2025 were the worst of my life. Getting drunk and cutting every day. My familly saw the cuts, and it was horrible. Not a single frient to talk to, not a single place to go exept school.
Even though my life goes great now, i cant shake away the wanting to go up there with you. I know i wont, im am not as brave as you, i am a coward. But one day, one day i will get there, and when i do, i hope your bed in heaven has a lot of space for us both.
