Dear Brendon,
I’m sorry I was never there, I’m sorry I couldn’t save you. I blame myself everyday. Mom says it’s not my fault, but I don’t believe her. It was my fault, I knew you were being picked on about your sexuality, you told me not to tell anyone about you being picked on but I should’ve. You still would’ve been here if I told someone. The day I saw you there hanging, I couldn’t breathe. I felt like my world had just been torn apart. You meant everything to me Brendon. You were my only friend, the only one I could trust. I can’t even celebrate our birthday anymore. On our birthday the only thing I do is go to your grave and set down flowers. This year, I’m going to go to New York, and put flowers there. I live in L.A. now. Do you know how hard that is? Not being able to have fun without feeling like crap. Sometimes I even have thoughts about ending my own life. You knew what happened with father, you knew about my drinking problem, you knew about everything. Your death made it hard for me to even get out of the house. I couldn’t sleep for weeks, maybe even months. But, I love you. I still love you, after everything you made me go through. Yes, I blame myself, but I still love you. I wish you were still here with me. You were so young, only seventeen. I’m turning nineteen, but you can’t. That makes me feel like crap.
If you were here, you’d correct all my grammar mistakes. I love you, Brendon…
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