She said you were a friend of hers in school
that you comforted her when your own friend broke her heart
that your picture hangs over her bed
and that she cries to you every night
and begs the answer to a question that kills me.
So I begged the answer to a question
we were all too familiar with
"Why did he do it."
Not so much a question I suppose
but I wouldn't be alive if I didn't ask.
And all she could tell me
was a heartbreaking truth
that does none of us any good now
least of all you.
"Robert was... so good at hiding his feelings.
I dropped him off the day before
and his stepmom told me that going to the fair
had been his treat for doing homework
like he was some kind of dog
and I wanted to slap her.
They never ever let him go anywhere."
I agreed with you.
I want to slap her too.
"There's a rumor going around school
that your dad abused him
that he drank too much and hit him."
I didn't bother trying to tell her otherwise
besides, we all know the truth don't we?
I lived through it, why did I ever think
that it might be different for you?
But then. I never took my own life either.
"He called Becca and left her a voicemail
all he said was 'It's not your fault'
you could hear him breathing for like
fifteen seconds, then...'It's not your fault.'"
All I could think was how much I'd wished
that you'd bothered to call me instead.
You were so good at hiding your feelings
and I was so good at ignoring them.