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dear ross,
i remember when i saw you for the last time. your eyes which normally showcased those beautiful hazel orbs were closed and your face seemed so peaceful. i would have actually thought that you were asleep if i wasn't aware of your surroundings. you were holding the rope with a tight grip in your red-stained hands, your bare feet centimetres away from touching the floor. a small, wooden stool was found right next to your slippers. on your desk, there was a few letters neatly folded with names messily scribbled on the surface.
i remember staring at you in shock, my clammy hands shaking in fear. i quickly grabbed a phone and dialed those three numbers, but it was too late. they told me it was too late, but i didn't cry. i only stared numbly at the wall, i think i didn't want to accept reality. that's why i didn't react at all.
don't you remember this? if you don't, it's okay. i remember everything, because it was only yesterday. the day where you committed suicide.
