I Swear You Will Be Fine

Dear Josh,

Every two days or so I write a letter to you and post it here. It has become a routine since we started this blog and for the many months that we have been doing this, I felt like it really helped me. Writing this blog is like a form of journaling for me – something you tried to get me into, and something I tried multiple times throughout the course of my life but it never stuck. I guess it’s really working for me now because sometimes I’d type “Day xxx” and realise that I’m more focused on ensuring I type the right number of days instead of what the number of days mean. Once in a while, my full attention would go to the number I’m typing, and it will hit me all over again. I’d suddenly be fully aware that it really has been 200… 300… 350 days since. And then I’m asking myself the same questions again – how, when, and why. These recent weeks, as the number has been increasing and nearing 365, I’ve been paying more attention to it – willing it to slow or stop. I don’t want to get further from the last time I saw you, or the last time we spoke. I don’t want the next year to begin, to begin writing in the 400s or 500s. Every time I have thoughts like these – sadness about the number of days it has been – the “emotionally stable” side of me then says, “don’t borrow sadness from the future”. I think that’s a reminder from you. So, thank you for the reminder. Obstacles will come when they do, and we will deal with them then.

I get very little privacy lately because I’m still traveling with my family. We’re in Italy now. The only alone time I get is when I’m in the shower, and that is the only time I can be sad without worrying about the face I’m pulling. A few nights ago, I had a thought about you, but not exactly you. Let me explain: I thought about you before we became friends. It’s this particular scene I see – you are talking to Lynn, sitting a few rows in front of me in the lecture hall, you’re standing up to remove your jacket and you’re wearing a black t-shirt underneath. I’d later learn from you, after we started dating, that the black t-shirt you always wear is called a “muscle tee”. You’re gesturing and talking and smiling, and Lynn is seated and looking up at you. You’re not Joshua, because I didn’t know your name yet. You’re not my boyfriend, because we hadn’t met. You’re not even my friend. You’re just the boy in front of me who seems full of life and opinions. Now, at the risk of sounding like a stalker, I was just curious because you seemed interesting to befriend (I’ve mentioned this. Trust me, not a stalker!).

In the shower, in my alone time, I was thinking about the boy in front of me gesturing wildly and laughing loudly. I can vividly see that scene again – that boy in front of me talking about how cool Dune is (I still don’t think it’s very cool) or how good-looking Timothee Chalamet is (I also still don’t think he’s good looking). I was wondering if the boy in front of me, the one who is rarely without a smile on his face, knows that this is the last year of his life on Earth. In my head, I’m there with you both, sitting a few rows behind you and looking at you with the awareness of what’s going to happen at the end of the year. I’m then wondering if you know that you won’t be here next year. I’m putting myself in that scene, with all this love for you, looking at you from afar and asking myself if you knew. I think you didn’t, which breaks my heart.

I know that the boy in front of me will be taken by suicide at the end of the year. But I wonder if the boy in front of me knows that he will be so missed by so many people. I wonder if he knows that he will have family traveling from all over the world to come see him for the last time. I wonder if he knows that he will plan his whole life with his girlfriend, then leave before they get to begin most of it. I wonder if he knows that his family will never celebrate Christmas again, that we will never say another “happy new year”, that everything will change forever.

I watch videos of this therapist online who shares her experiences as a therapist and encourages those who are struggling to seek help. Her recent video talked about suicidal clients and the “dos and don’ts”. She said that whenever she has a suicidal client, she tries not to react strongly, ask them too many questions, or repeatedly encourage them to stay. She asks them one question, and says that most of the time, they think about the answer to this question and end up immediately changing their minds about ending their lives. This made me extra sad, because I did not dare ask you this question back then, and now I’m thinking if I should have. The question she asks her suicidal clients is, “Who would you want to find your body?” She says that this question almost always makes them think about their closest family and friends and how difficult it would be for them to do that. She says that almost all the time, they can’t come up with a definitive answer, and it makes them realise all the reasons they should not end their lives. I wish I had asked you this question, but a part of me knows that you’d somehow come up with an answer I can’t refute. But sometimes I think that staying might end up causing you more hurt, and I feel angry at the people or situations that caused you hurt in the first place and led to this. I’m especially angry at the people who caused you hurt and are living their lives as if they didn’t.

I just wish the boy in front of me got to live the life he deserves. I hope you’re living it now. I’m so glad you didn’t remain “the boy in front of me”. I’m so glad we became friends, close friends, best friends, then partners. Words cannot describe how much joy and love you still bring me. Thank you for showing me what love means.

I can’t wait to see you again. I love you more, always, and forever.

Love always,
Sha