I Wish That We Could Both Be There

for the past two years, everyone has took no hesitation in telling me that it wasn't my fault. telling me that you did it because you were sad and lonely and scared and depressed. you told me; you told me about your mental condition. i tried to help you, believe me, i tried. i didn't understand. i didn't know just how far along you'd were, i couldn't see why you hated yourself so much when you had us; you had me, you had our other friends. i listened to you, i tried my best to fix you, and then i threw it all back in your face.

those statuses, i wish i could go back and time and tell you that i didn't mean them. i was hurt and annoyed and sad, i missed seeing you at school every day, i didn't know a thing about depression back then, not really. i didn't understand just how much something, no matter how small, could tip someone over the edge.

i may not have been the root cause of your problems, but i am what made you do exactly what you did. every word, every gesture, it was all down to me. those blackberry messenger statuses, saying horrible, hurtful, untrue things about you. i didn't mean them. i didn't mean them.

i threw my phone into the river the day after i found out.