Never Too Late

Dear Catherine,

I left flowers for you earlier. Now I'm writing you. Even though you'll never read this, I know you won't. But I just had to say this. I think I love you.

I think it started around the time I met you freshman year in college. It was the first day and we were in the same Political Science class. From the first time I saw you I couldn't take my eyes off of you. You were beautiful. You had the warmest eyes I'd ever seen, amazing curves, a jaw dropping smile, for God's sake you even laughed cute! And it wasn't just your appearance, you also had this way about you. I remember when you turned to me and asked me what year I was in. My heart nearly stopped.  I'd never met someone so charismatic, so kind and gentle, and yet so strong and confident. We became friends right away. We hung out doing whatever: you got me into parties I wasn't cool enough to get into myself, I cooked for you, we played Halo. Oh man, I'll never forget the time you burned a CD for me of your favorite music. I hated it. But I still listened to it over and over. I even researched the bands, hoping that one day I could impress you.

Now it's senior year, and even after 3 years of being around you seeing you still gives me butterflies. If I'm honest with myself, I think the reason I never admitted how I felt to you is that I got used to that feeling. I got used to having you in my life, even if it was just as a friend. I even got used to that longing to have more with you that I felt in my stomach, to the urge to lean over and kiss you, to that larger than life concept of you that lived in my head.  If I told you how I felt and you didn't feel the same way, I might lose those nights spent watching movies, the coffees before morning class and the philosophical conversations.

So I can't even begin to tell you how I felt when I heard you'd taken your own life. It boggles my mind. I didn't believe it was true. You always seem so happy. Everyone loves you. I can't believe that we were so close and I had no idea. Maybe I was too caught up in my desire for you to realize you needed help. Maybe you were just that good at hiding it. But it stopped my world when I heard. I blamed myself. I blamed society. I felt like shutting down. I felt like trying to not feel anything and just pushing through.

I guess what I'm saying is I'm mad at myself. I had literally thousands of opportunities to tell you how I felt. I even had some perfect moments. I mean perfect; the kind that only happen in movies. I blew every one of them. I have to accept that I am the only one at fault. But, in some selfish way, I'm mad at you too. You took the girl that I can't get out of my head away from me. The girl that keeps me up at night. I'll never see her again. I'll never know if she felt the same way about me. I'll never know what could have been. The more I think of it, the more it makes me feel selfish. I was your friend. I missed that you were in trouble. I let you down. And now all I can think about is how we will never be together? I have to trust that you knew me well enough to know that I care about you just as much as a friend as I did anything else. But my mind is stuck on what could have been.

So here I am. In love with my dead friend. I don't know where I go from here. The student counselor says that writing this letter will help. Honestly I don't care if it helps me or not. I'm not writing this for me. I just have this irrational hope that wherever you are now, you'll be able to read this. I'm writing this to tell you that I cherished every moment I spent with you.  To say that knowing you has changed my life. To tell you that I hope you know we all love you, we miss you and you will never be forgotten. And last, I want you to know that I'm sorry. I'm sorry for letting you leave this world without knowing exactly how much you mean to me.

Love always,
Chuck