Victim

This is the last place I saw him. My fingers ran over the tree I sat beside. During the course of our lives, it's true we all face different challenges and some of us are able to overcome those obstacles and some of us are not. It's sad to watch yourself or others fail but that's just life right? Since my own self-realisation things haven't been the same for me. Yeah that's right, I'm a tall and handsome quarterback that got all the hotties of the school y'know? I suppose I never officially came out and I now I wish I did. At least we could have suffered together right?

Arthur and I were close. Perhaps this is why it hurt me so much. I didn't even acknowledge his existence until a few months back and in the back of my mind I knew but I suppose I wasn't strong enough.

We had a good time together. This field was the spot we would meet up after school every day; we'd laugh at each other's idiocy and life adventures. Though at school, I pretended to not even know him and that might have been the biggest mistake I ever made because I knew it happened and I should have stopped it. Though, should haves can't really help me anymore. All they can do is remind me of my failures.

Even when I was down, he was there for me. He was the only one who knew my secret and he was the only one who I knew would accept it because he bared the same secret. He was open with his secret at school which is why I couldn't be with him there without falling into the trap of ridicule I knew he was in but couldn't help at all. I should have but like I said, should haves are nothing now.

I shouldn't have believed him when he said he was okay.

I wish he was with me now. I wish I could have saved him. My own selfish ignorance was to blame and I hated myself for it I guess. I've talked to my "friends", once they found out what happened to him and they seem to regret it but then they ask me why I care. I have to just shrug it off for now. They're all lies I know, they don't regret a thing. They probably think that this world is better off with "that fag".

Just because he's different, just because he's not like you, does that automatically give you the right to make him want to die and give up on living?

Does that really mean you should take away a life over it?

Over time I've come to realise that the tongue is more dangerous than any fists and the scars on my wrists since his departure are proof of that. I wonder if this is how Arthur got his scars. I wonder if he liked the feeling of the blood flowing from his body and the feeling of relief that nobody can hurt him anymore.

I don't understand why this is so hard for me sometimes. He was just…a friend right? No…I never got the chance to confess to him. This might be why it's so hard to take. He was a beautiful guy was Arthur- more beautiful than any girl at this school is on the inside! So what if his eyebrows were huge? I liked them that way. His hair was always soft and neat and I'd never seen quite a pretty smile before I met him. What did he do to deserve this?

Was it because he liked men? So what? I do too but I suppose I wasn't as brave as Arthur to confess that. Though everything comes with a consequence, doesn't it?

Arthur came out and he pulled the trigger.

I stayed in and I watched him suffer.

I missed the chance to become his hero. I ran my finger over the names etched in the oak. I remember that. Why couldn't I save him? Why was I never strong enough? My fingers curled up into fists and I slammed it on the hard wood.

Its days like these under the dark blue sky covered with stormy grey clouds I wonder if I really could have helped. When I think about it and imagine it; I find hope and for a moment I am happy.

However, hope won't bring him back. Hope won't magically make Arthur resurrect.

I hope they're fucking happy.

Whilst I stand here and let the rain run down my face like tears I can't help but think how their selfishness drove him to the edge. How they spoke of him- how could they? They can pretend that their wounds weren't deep. Maybe they just wanted to make themselves feel better, ruin the lives of others for their own self-satisfaction. How sickening it is. It makes me want to wrench.

I would like to think that someone other than me is mourning for his loss but Arthur was a lonely guy. He never spoke of family, he never had a funeral and he never had anyone to care about him. It took a while before anyone but I noticed he was gone.

I'm not sure if I can stand living in a world with so many cruel faces and I'm not sure if I can stand to look at those people. I can't say I'll ever forgive them for what they did and because it was suicide, I know they won't get true punishment for what they did. I'm sure after a year or two, the whole thing will be brushed under the carpet and Arthur Kirkland will cease to exist in nobody's heart. Except for mine.

I guess I miss him and I guess I loved him. I wish I had the chance to tell him how beautiful his emerald green eyes were. Maybe that one thing could have saved his life but Arthur isn't coming back. Arthur is gone.

My name is Alfred F. Jones and whilst I stand under this tree, I have made a choice. Tomorrow I'm going to come out.

I'm prepared for the ridicule I'm about to get even though I'll have no Arthur to hold my back.

I'm prepared to die feeling the way he did.