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Dear Rosie, I never met you, but I wrote a letter.

I had my death all worked out and everything. I was going to do it properly this time. All of those other attempts were phoney. I tried a couple of weeks ago and failed but I had the tin with all of the meds in it ready and counted. And then you died.

I’ve never even met you, I don’t think we’ve even crossed paths, but I feel like I know you from reading all of the things your friends have said about you and reading about your problems. I could tell from your picture in the paper that you had and eating disorder even before another article confirmed it. I don’t know how, perhaps it is the way the muscle clings to the skeleton of a person, or the look just behind the smile that told me. I’ve seen it a thousand times in myself and in the Pro-Ana sites I often frequent.

I never met you but I feel like there is this great chasm in my heart and I cannot stop crying. I cannot begin to fathom what your friends and family must be feeling. Of course I am always crying since I am a depressive, but this feels different. This is a horrible ache and sickness in the depths of my gut when I think about you. You were so beautiful and so talented and so lovely. I wish I could have had 5 minutes, ten minutes to talk you out of it. I would have told you how wonderful you are and how you are loved and I would have told it gets better so much better and I would have told you to hold on. Of course I would have been a hypocrite since I would not have taken on board the advice I would have given you. But I would have believed it in the context of you since your attributes were so obvious and self-evident.

I don’t understand how you could have done this to yourself. I hear myself having imaginary conversations with you or having conversations with friends about you and I say the things that people have been saying to me all of these years. Only now I realise the truth of them. I look at you and I see how talented you were and yet you did not see your worth. The horror of suicidality is that it blinds you to reason. It doesn’t matter what people say, it washes right over you and that sense of inadequacy and worthlessness remains.

I used to go to your school you know. Maybe we have met. I am supposed to be mature and have my life together but my life is all in bits. I still have to pills all collected and ready and a bottle of water so that if I do it in the middle of the night I won’t wake my Mum up with the running of the tap. But I am torn Rosie. I want to die desperately, but I see how devastated everyone is by your passing. I am all cut up and I never even met you. You had so much to live for. I wish there was a way in which I could offer up my life and bring you back. I would be happy to give up my life for definite for someone as loved as you.  I was supposed to overdose that day. I feel like in some twisted way if I had you would have survived. I was planning to take the train up to London and take them all and lie on a park bench and drift off. We could have run into each other.

I cannot bring myself to take these pills. My Mum and I have been talking about you, and my Mum, the empathic person that she is, drifts about the house genuinely upset about you. She’s been talking about how tragic it is and how it is the worst way for a person to die. She has never accepted any of my problems and she calls my suicide attempts ‘cries for help’. When I bring up suicide she calls me selfish. This is the first time she has been sympathetic to a person who has killed themselves. It makes me think that perhaps her callousness is a cover for her fear that I would truly do something.

I really want to die, I want peace and I want an end to this pain. But in the short term your death has saved my life. I wish it wasn’t like this. I wish a person didn’t have to die in order for me to see with some vestige of clarity. I can’t say I miss you because I never knew you, but I wish you were alive so desperately. I wish I had never become aware of your existence in such circumstances. I hope you are at peace now. It is at times like this I pray that there is a god, so you can be there with him. I never knew you but I will carry you in my heart forever.

Rest In Peace.

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  5. youre-just-beautiful-you reblogged this from poetryinsymmetry and added:
    Amen to this; RIP Rosie xx I experienced similar sentiments after reading the article in the paper; what if I’d known...
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