Tomorrow marks the 5 year anniversary of my best friends suicide attempt. The final one that changed it all. I haven’t seen her since. She might be alive, but lifeless. It’s like she died that day and it sounds harsh, but I wish she would have. Things got worse from there. And she’s basically in and out of the clinic. I am not allowed to see her because doctors say that seeing someone from the past might trigger old feelings. So to me she died. I remember her calling at two in the morning, panicing because she couldn’t breathe. She had swallowed meds alcohol and laundry detergent. That call was the last time I was ever able to talk to her. Those words full of panic I will never forget. She was afraid and so was I. It took me four days to get the information of to where she was. The psychiatrists think, that I am the reason she tried to kill herself. They think that the last person she wanted to talk to, would have to be the one she wanted to inform about her death firsthand. It screws my mind because I was just a seventh grader and they were putting the weight of someones death on my shoulders. They didn’t understand that we were best friends. Better friends than anyone ever. They don’t know about the endless times I visited her in the clinic and how we would put soap all over her bedroom floor in winter, pretending that we were ice skating. They don’t know about the time we made plans to move together later on. We would say: ” Once we are through this hell we’ll be together.”. We wanted to buy the little yellow house right net to the swimming pool with the ivy all over it. It was a gorgeous little property but we wouldn’t have ever been able to afford it. We planned to rob a bank. Because who would suspect some innocent little girls? We went on talking on the phone for hours at night while she snook out of the clinic so we could meet up. I would take the train every weekend for 2 and a half hours just to see her. What’s even worse than all this is, that I had to go through all this by myself. My parents didn’t like her because they thought she was a bad influence and I couldn’t tell my friends because we had a suicidal girl in our class already. Two was too many. One was too many. So this official. I miss you and one day I hope we’ll see each other again and live in that little yellow house. You on the first floor , me on the second. With our cute little garden full of raspberry bushes. Just saying. I miss you.