The words don’t even seem to matter this year. They don’t seem to mean anything. Anything I hoped to say, wished to say, would ever dream of saying left that day. Saying “Happy birthday” just doesn’t seem right. Nothing seems happy, nothing seems right. Being 16 shouldn’t be that hard. Turning 18 shouldn’t happen in the grave…and yet here we are. Trying to put the words “Happy” and “Birthday” in the same sentence on a day that seems anything but.
Happy birthday kid. I wish it were different. I wish, that life was simpler. Easier. Better. I wish that you wouldn’t have been dealt such a crappy hand. That I would have seen sooner. That help would have been there quicker. I wish you would have found peace here. That you didn’t feel this was your only option. I wish. So much.
But mostly I wish that today would be going so much differently.
There just aren’t words.
There never will be.
On what would have been your 18th, on the day you should have been celebrating your freedom…the only thing left to celebrate is that you are no longer trapped. You are no longer held here. In a world you fought against for years. I hope you found some peace. I really do. I really hope it was worth it. I’m sorry it wasn’t enough. I’m sorry it never will be enough.
The world may forget. They may not remember. But I always will. As hard as I try, I can’t forget you. I wouldn’t want to. You may not ever have known how much you changed my life, you may have never seen how much of a difference you made -and it may be too late now, but on what would have been your 18th, I can’t help but wish -if just for a minute -that somehow…you know. And never forget.