despite everything, it's still you

It feels weird typing that so casually. It’s been this massive thing I could never truly verbalise without the grief catching my tongue and a sob blocking my throat. But for some reason typing it out now doesn’t come with that same sensation. I feel sad and like a strange warm and cold wave has passed over me and is going back and forth like I’m lying in the sand at the edge of the sea.

I found out on my very first day at university. I’d been so incredibly nervous but my first class was amazing and I was happy. I got lunch on campus with a friend and she so easily and causally dropped the bomb that my friend had taken her own life. To be fair to her, she didn’t realise just how close I’d been to that friend. She felt so horrible afterwards.

I was just numb for a while. I sat on a concrete step eating my terrible cheese toastie while my friend attempted to console me. Another friend came and sat on the other side to me, and when she was told of what happened also attempted to be there for me. It was grounding, sitting between the two of them with my poor choice in lunch in my hands and a cold can of Coke pressing against my thigh.

My friend and I took the bus afterwards. I was heading to work and she took the same bus to get home. On the bus I felt that same numbness and deep sadness but I hadn’t been able to cry. I don’t think I let myself cry until she got off at her stop. The minute she left I broke down crying. I was horrified when another student who went to our high school got on the bus but I don’t think he noticed me. I’d never felt more glad for being invisible.

I got off the bus and tried to walk to work until I had to sit down on a bench and properly cry and sob again. Once I could catch my breath I continued my walk along an incredibly busy road to get to the tutoring centre I worked at. I wonder how strange and messy I looked with my tear stained face, snotty nose and distant gaze. But then again, maybe no one noticed.

When I got to work I cried as I told my boss what had happened. She asked if I wanted to go home but I said no and that I’d stay since the kids needed me (and maybe I needed them). I think the students I looked after that day could tell I was upset. I got given a sticker by one of them at one point. I wish I could’ve told those kids how much I loved teaching them and how they’d pulled me out of a terrible place years ago when I started there. But they’re kids and I thought they should go as long as possible without knowing how much a person can break.

Eventually it was too much and I went home. I cried and cried in my room and my mother got frustrated with me at one point which made me cry harder.

I had to break the news to one of my friends. I messaged him asking if my other friend and talked to him and that I needed to tell him something. He told me the same thing. Turns out he was dating my ex and they’d been together for a bit. I didn’t think I could’ve had a worse day. I had to tell him the horrible truth and ruin what was probably an exciting announcement for him. I selfishly felt betrayed that he would date them, sometimes I still have a tiny bit of resentment for that. But that was a long time ago and things have changed since then.

I remember calling my best friend who came over and sat with me while I cried and told her something I found never tell the others. My friend was trans, and I’d been supporting her transition. Hell, I’d been the one she turned to when she needed help figuring out all of her dysphoria and anxieties about it. I confirmed what she suspected and felt so proud that she trusted my judgement and knowledge.

I felt like a traitor when I revealed tha secret to my best friend. But I couldn’t stand having to deadname her and use the wrong pronouns when speaking about her death on that day. Especially when her mental health issues that surrounded her transition were a part of her death. How could I allow myself to disrespect her when no one but me and her family knew the truth? How could I honour her memory if that memory was false?

We ended up calling two other friends and talking about how we felt and the grief. After that phone call ended and my best friend left we never talked about it what happened again. We still haven’t and it’s been three years.

I remember being so upset when I’d go to university on Thursdays in my second semester that year. I had a class focused on linguistics and using that knowledge to make our own languages. I knew she would love it so much, just like she’d love the wildlife sanctuary on campus and the trips biology students got to go on. It was so bittersweet to imagine her with me and enjoying it. I felt such a deep sadness and guilt that I could experience so many things she would love to do.

We had actually not spoken for a month before it happened. We messaged each other and it ended in a fight where she said some nasty things but I know that it was not intentionally cruel, more like a stray cat backed into a corner and scratching and hissing. She sent a message apologising a few days later and I couldn’t bring myself to respond. I didn’t know what to say, I didn’t know how to express my own feelings and empathise and say the right words. So I never responded. About a week later she sent me a clip of a YouTube video she thought I’d find funny, and again I didn’t respond.

That video link was the last message I ever got from her.

People messaged me after the news broke when our old high school posted about a previous student in our year passing away. They wanted to know if it was her (not that they really knew Her) and when i told them it was true they offered sympathy and kindness. For some of those people it was the last time I ever spoke to them.

I went to class after that. I had to sit in my class where everyone was doing ice breakers and stuff and pretend like I wasn’t crumbling inside. I’m honestly not sure how I managed to get through those two hours but I did.

Sometimes I wanted to message her. But I knew that never getting a reply would make her death feel more real. I could have a strange kind of denial if I never messaged her. Schrödinger’s Discord Message I suppose.

My friend was funny. She was a huge nerd like me. She loved science and sea creatures and insects and algae. She loved our literature and philosophy classes. She loved writing so much that she went to a weekly writers group (I wish I had been able to take up her offer to join). She was kind and supportive. She had a pet leech and loved Jerma and awkward comedy. I love her and miss her.

This is the first time I’ve ever been able to say all of this, or at least write all of this and send it out into the void. I know no one will read this, but maybe actually putting it out there will make it easier to speak about. I don’t have the lump in my throat when I think about her most of the time now. Instead I just feel a sadness and longing often with a bit of guilt or bitter sweetness and I remember our time together.

In my head I come up with names I think she would’ve chosen. She never decided on a proper one. I think she would’ve liked something strange and unique like naming herself after a fish or a more older name like Dahlia. I call her 小虫 in my head sometimes. I think she would’ve liked picking a Chinese name with me while I chose mine.

I love you and I miss you. I wish I had been a better friend and I wish you had never had to deal with the pain of trying to be yourself.

I want to visit the botanical gardens in my city at the end of the month, I think they’d have little bugs and plants in the lake there she’d like. So if I can bring myself to, I’ll go and speak to them. Tell her everything I wished to have said to her back then.

If you see an insect or leech or fish or moss or algae and you’ve read all of this nonsense then I hope you can remember my friend. Someone who would’ve been so excited by the sight of such a simple thing.