Dear... Angell
Hey...
Sometimes I think about you. I wonder how you're doing. I wonder if I could have done something different. Something to save you. I see your parents at church. They look sad and alone. I miss you, despite the fact that I should not. You weren't a good influence, 2 years younger than me, but still. You're the first person who I told I liked that one guy. I still do, and we're friends now, but that's a story for another time. I think about that one time we talked on face time. I remember how you told me you didn't think anyone actually loved you, how your anxiety was bad, and you were depressed. I'm sorry I didn't understand at the time. I was in deeper than I should have been.
It's not my fault that you left the school and I never heard from you again. It's not my fault that you took what I had said lovingly in a bad way. I tried to give you help. It wasn't the right thing. But I could have been gentler. I could still reach out. I could text you. I want to, but I know it would end badly. I think we aren't meant to reconnect. But it still hurts that you left me on read. It still hurts that you left and never said goodbye. When I saw you at summer camp that year, you told me at the end that you were glad you went. Was that true or were you trying to just appease my good-natured heart? Do you think I'm still innocent? I'm not. I've been to hell and back in the past year. I thought it was going to end. I thought my life would fall apart and I just wanted to become that one girl at school who didn't talk to people and kept to herself. That's not who I became though. I found my purpose again. It's the same purpose I tried to give you. You didn't think it was real. A lot of people don't. That makes me sad because I believe with everything I have that what I tried to show you is the only reason any of us are alive today.
If I told you my story maybe you'd see. Maybe not though. Maybe I'll never see you again. Maybe depression got the best of you. I'm sorry if it did. I'm sorry for everything, and if by some crazy chance you're reading this, reach out and just tell me how you're doing. I promise I'll just listen. I'm done trying to help people because every time I try to help, I push them further away.
I miss you, when I know you probably never think of me. Good luck in life, and despite what you say, I'll pray for you.