Ryan

Ryan,

It was the summer of 1997, the summer before Freshman year. You’d just gotten your license…first person of our whole class. You went from dork to hot shit within one day. People always wanted rides from you and you gave them. Even if they had always been mean to you before. You wanted to be like them…cool. Days wore on and it was just old, them using you. And one by one they got their own license and you went back to where you had been. One of the nerds once more. We welcomed you back as if you had never left. We didn’t care you had a car. Oh sure it was cool, but that wasn’t what make you cool to us.

I remember you talking about gun with one of the other guys. I just blew it off, after all the two of you always talked guns. I wish I had known something more. Wish I had been able to tell you where different that day, but I was young…stupid.

That evening you left town to go home. The winding road out of town was the scene of the wreak. At first the police thought you had been careless.

Then they found the gun.

Gun. It surprised the hell out of them, that is for sure. When they found your body in the ravine there was a bullet hole under your chin. You shot yourself while driving. The car wreaked and you’d been thrown from the car. What drove you to the edge? There was never a note letting the world know you’d been there. We took care of that for you…your name was spray painted on the barriers at that spot for years. A silent reminder of what happened in that peaceful little town. Yet, you where one of many that killed themselves from that town. Small town with no where to go. No where for minds that needed to grow and expand…minds that needed more than the simple life to thrive…it was a dead end for a lot of us there.

I had always thought you’d be one of them to get out of there, like me. I’d always known one way or another I’d get out. Look at me now Ryan. I’m out…I’m living life and I’ve seen so many things. I’ve done so much in life that I could settle down and be content, because I didn’t roll over and take it without a fight. Teachers always talked after you died…’He was one of the better ones’.

Better ones.

What makes someone better than another? Just because they focus in school? Just because they don’t fight? It doesn’t make anyone better. It sure as hell doesn’t make you better Ryan. It makes them better, they could face the doldrums of that town better than you could. I could face it better. It still doesn’t make me better. Not in the least.

Oh I missed you, make no mistake of that…I just am not sure if I hated you more. People leaving…moving…and you went off to kill yourself. Impulse or not it was the worst thing anyone could have done. One last hurrah? You just had to do it on the road…make us all think at first a wreak. We could have handled a wreak a hell of a lot easier than the shit you pulled.

I miss you and I hate you so much Ryan.

I wish you could come home.

B.