favrot—the t is silent.

I guess you never know how much time you have with another human being. It’s 6 am, a time my jobless ass doesn’t see very often but I woke up this morning thinking ants were crawling all over me and I couldn’t get enough air.
I don’t know what to write or how to feel, I guess sad is all. Every decision she made over the last year didn’t seem like a great idea but then I’d think who the fuck am I to tell someone else what’s right for them, right? She knows best for herself and her set of problems. What do I know about depression? I don’t have it, I‘ve been blessed with somewhat normal brain chemistry, what the hell do I know. So I would just nod and say, “ok, yeah, I guess if that’s what you think you need to do”
What makes a person so desperate to take her own life? I take small relief in the fact I know she didn’t suffer, that this is where her suffering ends. I’m grateful it was the police that beat my 3 friends to her apartment because putting the image together in my head is bad enough but seeing it first hand would have haunted them forever.
What should I do with the photographs? Should I get rid of them or give them to the family? I always meant to reshoot her, I thought I didn’t get her right. After I told her I wanted to do it again but this time her all dolled up, she kinda laughed and rolled her eyes but was willing. I didn’t want to show her the photographs, as if they would show someone she already didn’t know she was. I never got around to the second shoot, I mostly didn’t want to bug her or put her in a position where she had to fret about the way she looked. The pictures are taken a year and a half before now and I can see the depression digging its heels in. I think back to all the decisions and I can see her go, piece by piece while the depression came in and finally took over. It’s not her who killed herself, it’s that god dame disease. She was so fiery, so beautiful and young. Fierce when she wanted to be, quick to say fuck off to people that pissed her off. She was strikingly gorgeous – one of those woman that could make a room stand still.
Her self-hatred was so intense, I never new what to do with it. We would set after yoga class and eat noodles and she would start in on herself and it made me so uncomfortable I wanted to jump up and run out of the restaurant. I tried “your not fat,” “you don’t have lines around your mouth,” “thanks for the complement and you know, you have nice skin too.” “Are you crazy?” I’d often say in response to some of her comments about herself. She’d look at me, give a half smile and say “well… yeah.” I’d laugh. Its weird how we take each other for granted, I always appreciated her presence in my community, she was so rock gut honest.
I’m devastated that my friend is dead but I’m glad she’s not in pain anymore, that she doesn’t have to fight day in and day out with her brain, it looked so painful and there was nothing I could do. There was nothing different I could’ve done or anyone could’ve done to prevent this, right? To get back to sleep I have to believe this whether it’s true or not. I miss you already lady, I’m sorry it turned out this way and I hope you have found some peace. All my love.