Heroin.
These are not words. I loved you when I was only eleven years old. I had no idea who I was, let alone who you were. Yet, somehow in my adolescent brain I was convinced that you are my soulmate. Even then. I know you loved me, but you never loved anything more than H. I wonder sometimes, if what we had was real. I wonder if you had long ago accepted defeat to your own disease. I wonder if you ever showed me your truest colors. I’d like to think I saw them often, but I will never know.
The permanent-ness of death is a pop quiz I never studied for. All those moments, all those horrible words we exchanged. The last time you invited me over, I had made the decision not to go. For the first time, I wasn’t going to beckon your call. It didn’t feel good. But i didn’t want to see you fucked up again. WHen i didn’t show up you told me it would be the last time. In that moment my gut told me you weren’t lying for once. You ignored every single one of my phone calls and messages. Hundreds over the course of a single week and for the first time, you did not respond. You didn’t call back. You just died. Did you want this to happen? I wish i could’ve gotten to know the man so loved by so many, capable of anything. unfortunately, you were introduced to H before me. If this were not the case, I would have no reason to write these words.
We have a love so pure and divine, I won’t ever TRULY question it. I may wonder, I may be angry at you for leaving me here alone to die. However, our love is so rare I am only happy to have found and experienced it in my lifetime. If you feel the same, i’m glad I had the chance to give that to you. It’s the best I can do now, Stephen. God damnit I wish you were fucking here.
I would have saved your life everyday. You could’ve overdosed again, and again. Every single day. I would have been there, I would have revived you, I would have saved your life every minute of every day.
I hope you are okay. I miss every part of you, your soul, your light. I carry your heart in mine for life.