Best Friend Suicide
The Best Friend Suicide
Amigo, comrade, partner, main squeeze, pal, bro, homie, and dawg are all words used to describe our friends. Abraham Lincoln once said “a friend is one who has the same enemies you have,” but friends are so much more than that. Our friends are our life source. Virtually anyone anywhere has a friend of some sort, and life as we know it would completely transform without them. Friends aid you in times of need, listen and understand when you yearn for another human just to consult with, and even help you grow as an individual. Friends are those who you allow to get close to you, who know your secrets, and who keep their promise to never tell a soul. Now imagine all that, multiplied by ten, and packaged conveniently into one person. This is not just a friend, but your best friend; the person you love most. Now, imagine that that person has died. “Derek!” I shout as loud as I virtually can over an angry text message, “I’ve had it! I’m so done with today. I need to clean something, so I’m coming over.” The only time I ever call D-Rok by his full name is when I’m so beyond mad that the “D” and the “Rok” of his nickname collide together to create the sound of his birth name. I’m sure he already knows what’s wrong, he always does, so I slip my giraffe Toms on my feet, grab my keys, slam my door, and stomp down the stairs of my apartment complex. My mood starts to lift at the beauty of the day, but on the way to my car I briefly trip over a crack in the sidewalk, which immediately reminds me of my rage for this cursed day. With my new-found memory, I slide in my car, forget the seatbelt, chuck my phone, and blast my radio as I speed, enraged, down the street to D-Rok’s house. Immediately once I walk in the door, my mood is completely flipped. I’m greeted by Jordan, his 5 year-old angel of a daughter, and his warm embrace. “It’s today, isn’t it?” he asks, “Today’s the day Stephan took his life some years ago.”
Stephan was the man I was going
Amigo, comrade, partner, main squeeze, pal, bro, homie, and dawg are all words used to describe our friends. Abraham Lincoln once said “a friend is one who has the same enemies you have,” but friends are so much more than that. Our friends are our life source. Virtually anyone anywhere has a friend of some sort, and life as we know it would completely transform without them. Friends aid you in times of need, listen and understand when you yearn for another human just to consult with, and even help you grow as an individual. Friends are those who you allow to get close to you, who know your secrets, and who keep their promise to never tell a soul. Now imagine all that, multiplied by ten, and packaged conveniently into one person. This is not just a friend, but your best friend; the person you love most. Now, imagine that that person has died. “Derek!” I shout as loud as I virtually can over an angry text message, “I’ve had it! I’m so done with today. I need to clean something, so I’m coming over.” The only time I ever call D-Rok by his full name is when I’m so beyond mad that the “D” and the “Rok” of his nickname collide together to create the sound of his birth name. I’m sure he already knows what’s wrong, he always does, so I slip my giraffe Toms on my feet, grab my keys, slam my door, and stomp down the stairs of my apartment complex. My mood starts to lift at the beauty of the day, but on the way to my car I briefly trip over a crack in the sidewalk, which immediately reminds me of my rage for this cursed day. With my new-found memory, I slide in my car, forget the seatbelt, chuck my phone, and blast my radio as I speed, enraged, down the street to D-Rok’s house. Immediately once I walk in the door, my mood is completely flipped. I’m greeted by Jordan, his 5 year-old angel of a daughter, and his warm embrace. “It’s today, isn’t it?” he asks, “Today’s the day Stephan took his life some years ago.”
Stephan was the man I was going