He’s gone. He’s not here anymore, not in this place that never felt right for him. Wherever he is now I hope it’s quieter. Lighter. Exactly the kind of place he always said he wanted.

He never pretended this world was made for him. He never fit into it. He felt too much. Saw too much. And the world, as always, had no mercy for that kind of soul.

He was my friend. My brother. My lover. Everything that mattered and everything that hurts now.

He fought. He tried. For a while, he even believed. But not everyone is built to survive. Not everyone has to be.

He just knew, deep down, this wasn’t his place. Maybe it never was.

Watching the world break him piece by piece felt like suffocating in silence. I knew I couldn’t save him. I still tried.

Sometimes I dream he’s still here laughing at all the stupid things we cared too much about. And then I wake up, and he’s still gone.

But maybe it’s for the best. Maybe now, finally, he doesn’t have to care anymore. Maybe now he’s really free.

I don’t understand the point of all this. What’s the purpose of living when we all end up dead anyway?

No one’s ever really happy here.

People are too cruel for this world to ever be kind.

Don’t tell me to “stay strong.”

Don’t say “he was so brave.”

I know who he was. That’s enough.

Wherever he is now that’s where he’s wanted to be for a long time.

And if anyone deserved peace, it was him.