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When I was in 7th grade, there was this boy I wanted to be friends with. He would let me borrow his watercolors in art class, was my dance partner in well dance class, and copy his homework.

He started to miss school really often at the beginning of the year until he stopped showing up one day. A week later, we received the news about his head tumor.

Everyone in school hoped he would get better, including me.

My friend group that he was part of too wanted to go visit him, I wanted to go too, but they told me I couldn’t because I knew him for less time.

In the end, they got told he wasn’t receiving visits from people outside his family, so they didn’t get to see him. But I did. I was in the hallway and saw him.

He was wearing an oversized jacket and a gray beanie. He looked taller, puff up his complexion was really pale, and he had the darkest eyebags.

We talked for a short period, and I ask him when he was coming back to school. I hate how I didn’t realize how insensitive that was at the time, how cruel. He said, “I don’t know.”

Gave me a USB in the shape of a dinosaur with a project for our literature class and left.

That was the last time I saw him.

My classmates stopped talking about him. No one mentioned him again, not even the teachers, and we went into 8th grade like he was never there.

October came in, and I got the news of his parting. It was a Facebook post telling us the reception date and directions; I cried, screamed, and sobbed all day.

Going to the funeral was the most challenging part; We were supposed to wear all white, so I had to wear a graphic shirt that no longer fit me and my mom’s white jeans. I didn’t have any white clothes at that time.

When I got to the funeral parlor, 3 of my classmates caught my eye, a girl in particular in that group. She was wearing a white shirt, a blue mini skirt, and beige high heels. But their behavior was even more infuriating, taking pictures, drinking coffee; It was really gross. They treated the funeral for a 13-year-old, cancer patience like some sort of hangout.

But I was more disgusted at my own thoughts; I was jealous of him and angry at God for taking the straight-A student who wanted to be a doctor.

Instead of me, someone who didn’t have any dreams for the future and still doesn’t. And I think that was the day I stopped believing in god all together.

I felt so guilty for having those thoughts, especially after hearing more about him from his grandparents.

How he would do all the school projects regardless of his illness and would say, “I’m in 8th grade!” even though he was no longer in school.

How he was in so much pain every day that he would commit SH because he no longer wanted to suffer.

It’s been 10 years since, and I still think about him; And even though I know my schoolmates probably do too, it doesn’t feel like it. I feel so guilty because I feel I’m wasting my life while he can no longer live his.

But I like to think he’s the one helping me when my path becomes rocky because every time I tried to unalive myself, I think of him and go on a walk and calm myself.

I can’t find a picture of him. It almost feels like he completely disappeared; I wish I could at least remember his face.

This song describes the experience of losing someone who died being young while also being young and having an overwhelming desire to no longer stay alive.

The horrible feeling to see all your friends move towards the future but being stuck in the past yourself.

It gives me a lot of comfort knowing I’m not alone, that there are people with a similar experience as me.

I’m sorry you’re also going through this too; I hope we can all heal together.

From @idontunderstand

Photo by Mohammad Harris on Unsplash

Song by Phoebe Bridgers – “Funeral” from ‘Stranger In The Alps’ out Sept. 22 on Dead Oceans.