An overdue correspondence
Dear Alex,
You've been dead for a while now--a little over a year and a half. There's so much I haven't told you. I'm sorry about that. You tried to reach out once during that period of time where we were both off living our respective lives and that unanswered instagram DM is still sitting there--a scathing indictment of me for ignoring it.
You were one of my first gay friends. I don't know if you ever knew that. I'd met other gay people online before you but none of them were actual friends, they were signposts along the path to finding myself. I was so guarded and while I like to think that I'm more open now, I'm afraid I still have walls up in a big way. I think we both did. Oddly enough, I suspect that's part of what made me feel like I could trust you with the weight of our shared burden. Unlike me though, you seemed at first glance to be much more comfortable with yourself. We surely made an odd pair on paper. You were leaning into flamboyancy and didn't care if people perceived you as effeminate, but at the time I was still quietly trying to pass for straight day-to-day. I was so much more fearful back then. You'd be proud of how I've evolved, I think.
Even then, before I'd unpacked all my own shame around being a gay man, I might've rolled my eyes once or twice at things you said but I never looked down on you. I envied your ability to be unbothered by what other people might think. I longed for that freedom, even if at the time I was searching it for it in exactly the wrong ways.
I wish things were different. I wish I'd fucked up less. I wish I'd ever gotten my shit together enough to visit you and our mutual friends on the west coast while you still drew breath. It's funny, we weren't in regular contact but even during those years that we didn't talk much, we still vaguely orbited one another from a distance and at least in my mind it felt like we could reach out to one another at any time should the need arise.
After you died I got really drunk one night and scrolled through your tiktok account. Looking through them it became obvious you weren't doing well. And god, that fucking kills me. Someone in the comments had sent some encouraging words. A reply to it said "I think he passed away." That haunts me. I let myself drift far enough from you that I didn't reach out when there was still time to. Maybe it wouldn't have made a difference, but even if the outcome were the same, I wish I had been there--even in some small way. I'm sorry for that. I'm sorry life was so cruel to you. You deserved better. And for what it's worth, I miss you.
Sincerely,