This is a complete revamp. Be kind.
LAST NIGHT
Hi. My name is Luis. I'm seventeen years old and Tommy was my best friend. I’m writing this down because I don’t think I can take any more people asking me what happened. At this point, I’ve contemplated holding a press conference just to appease people and their aching for more about information about him, but really I only know so much. I can’t keep telling the story over and over. I’m so sick of people getting the detais wrong, I’ve decided to put it all in writing, so everyone can leave me alone. I’m still grieving too.
I’ve never written about anyone before but I think it would only be right to start with how Tommy was like before he spun out of control. I’m not afraid to say it. I think I have the right to, mostly because I was there. I watched him dig himself a hole. I know this is going to be a hard pill to swallow for many, especially for those who loved him, but I don’t think anyone’s going to be surprised, really.
He started out as any guy would on the first day of school; the only bit he had going for him was that everyone knew who he was when he walked through the door. I guess in that way, he wasn’t really like any other kid. Everyone watched what he did, and for some reason he chose Amely. I remember him sitting next to her for two months and them never talking until one day, they did. And as far as I can remember, that was that.
For every single girl who has ever come up to me and asked me why he chose her, to all those with the actual solid ass balls to ask me that, I think it was because she came off like a decent human being – and honestly, she was. She is. You’ve all seen her walking around by herself with all the grace of someone with the decency to act strong and to care, and not just say yes. She could’ve saved him – I really do believe that.
We were on the same side, her and I, but it was so hard to control him. Anyone who’s gone to the parties, or seen the pictures, or visited the wreckages (at the very least) knows how he gets. But y’know, when I met him, he wasn’t like that at all. There was this one time, and I really do think I need to say this, when my brain was in shambles and I didn’t really know what to do, and the world was falling down around me, he was there. He was the only one who was there. He picked me up and dusted me off and made things alright again. It felt like someone was ripping my soul apart, and he punched that metaphorical person right in the face.
That night, you all know what I’m talking about, he threw this raging party. I mean, strobe lights all over the place, you could literally feel the bass inside your body at that point. It was like the whole house was thumping to the legendary beat. I remember more than half of the people who walked through the door were complete strangers but Tommy met them like they were family. A lot of you might not know this but she came to that party, Amely. And she, she told him off. She said he promised he’d stop drinking and partying and wasting himself away like he so came to liking. I remember he was holding a beer and she was near tears and she was shouting, but she was begging.
And I remember him walking away.
What you don’t understand is that Tommy was probably the most fragile person I knew, and will ever know. What you don’t understand is how truly precious he was. No homo, he was. What you don’t understand are the lengths we went to in order to keep him for as long as we did; and how painful it was to know that they weren’t enough.
Everything smelled like beer and vomit and sweat, and it all just reeked of desperation to be completely honest. It was disgusting. I found him in bed the next morning with Amely pushing back his hair as he coughed into his fist. Even though you might never understand, she did, and that’s why she stayed. That’s why I stayed – because when someone needs you, you never leave them behind.
That morning was important because after saying sorry to Amely, he told us his parents were getting a divorce (to Mr. and Mrs. Guller, I’m sorry in advance for outing your separation in case your family didn’t know yet). This would’ve been a big deal for any kid, but I guess it was a bigger deal for Tommy because he chose to pretend not to care and it was hard to watch. If you’ve ever denied yourself anything that was plain as day or have watched someone you love do it, you know what I mean.
He was so self-destructive. We should’ve told someone but I thought we could handle him. I remember there being a point when he’d need to take an entire cocktail of prescription pills to feel okay. Some days, on bad days, one of us would find him crying in the bathroom. Some days, he was violent. He tried to flush all his meds down the toilet once, but Amely got to him and she told him he would get better, and things would get better. He was on his knees when he kissed her. There really wasn't much left to say after that.
There was this song he kept playing a few days before he died. It still haunts me now. The soft humming and slights of the piano keys and the delicacy of the singing, and how his face mellowed into a strange calm whenever he was zoned in. Every break in tone, ever sullen weepy melancholic repeat of bridge, every word breathed into him. That was still playing when I found him; and I was so in shock I couldn’t even cry or shout or anything. I knew he was gone, I knew it, but for some reason I thought maybe they could pump his stomach, maybe they could cut him open or just, have a wizard bring him back or something!
Have you ever held someone you loved so tightly with the intention of never letting go, because you know you’ll never get them back? Have you ever held your dying friend? Have you ever looked at someone and known that you have never been more sorry that you couldn’t be enough? If you haven’t, you can’t possibly know.
So here are all the details: Tommy Guller was 17 y.o. I found him in his bathtub, drenched but fully clothed. Pills were scattered on the counter, some spilled over onto the floor. There was no blood anywhere. There was no one else home. It was just him and his music and his meds – and that was the problem.
Now please, leave me alone.
LAST NIGHT
Hi. My name is Luis. I'm seventeen years old and Tommy was my best friend. I’m writing this down because I don’t think I can take any more people asking me what happened. At this point, I’ve contemplated holding a press conference just to appease people and their aching for more about information about him, but really I only know so much. I can’t keep telling the story over and over. I’m so sick of people getting the detais wrong, I’ve decided to put it all in writing, so everyone can leave me alone. I’m still grieving too.
I’ve never written about anyone before but I think it would only be right to start with how Tommy was like before he spun out of control. I’m not afraid to say it. I think I have the right to, mostly because I was there. I watched him dig himself a hole. I know this is going to be a hard pill to swallow for many, especially for those who loved him, but I don’t think anyone’s going to be surprised, really.
He started out as any guy would on the first day of school; the only bit he had going for him was that everyone knew who he was when he walked through the door. I guess in that way, he wasn’t really like any other kid. Everyone watched what he did, and for some reason he chose Amely. I remember him sitting next to her for two months and them never talking until one day, they did. And as far as I can remember, that was that.
For every single girl who has ever come up to me and asked me why he chose her, to all those with the actual solid ass balls to ask me that, I think it was because she came off like a decent human being – and honestly, she was. She is. You’ve all seen her walking around by herself with all the grace of someone with the decency to act strong and to care, and not just say yes. She could’ve saved him – I really do believe that.
We were on the same side, her and I, but it was so hard to control him. Anyone who’s gone to the parties, or seen the pictures, or visited the wreckages (at the very least) knows how he gets. But y’know, when I met him, he wasn’t like that at all. There was this one time, and I really do think I need to say this, when my brain was in shambles and I didn’t really know what to do, and the world was falling down around me, he was there. He was the only one who was there. He picked me up and dusted me off and made things alright again. It felt like someone was ripping my soul apart, and he punched that metaphorical person right in the face.
That night, you all know what I’m talking about, he threw this raging party. I mean, strobe lights all over the place, you could literally feel the bass inside your body at that point. It was like the whole house was thumping to the legendary beat. I remember more than half of the people who walked through the door were complete strangers but Tommy met them like they were family. A lot of you might not know this but she came to that party, Amely. And she, she told him off. She said he promised he’d stop drinking and partying and wasting himself away like he so came to liking. I remember he was holding a beer and she was near tears and she was shouting, but she was begging.
And I remember him walking away.
What you don’t understand is that Tommy was probably the most fragile person I knew, and will ever know. What you don’t understand is how truly precious he was. No homo, he was. What you don’t understand are the lengths we went to in order to keep him for as long as we did; and how painful it was to know that they weren’t enough.
Everything smelled like beer and vomit and sweat, and it all just reeked of desperation to be completely honest. It was disgusting. I found him in bed the next morning with Amely pushing back his hair as he coughed into his fist. Even though you might never understand, she did, and that’s why she stayed. That’s why I stayed – because when someone needs you, you never leave them behind.
That morning was important because after saying sorry to Amely, he told us his parents were getting a divorce (to Mr. and Mrs. Guller, I’m sorry in advance for outing your separation in case your family didn’t know yet). This would’ve been a big deal for any kid, but I guess it was a bigger deal for Tommy because he chose to pretend not to care and it was hard to watch. If you’ve ever denied yourself anything that was plain as day or have watched someone you love do it, you know what I mean.
He was so self-destructive. We should’ve told someone but I thought we could handle him. I remember there being a point when he’d need to take an entire cocktail of prescription pills to feel okay. Some days, on bad days, one of us would find him crying in the bathroom. Some days, he was violent. He tried to flush all his meds down the toilet once, but Amely got to him and she told him he would get better, and things would get better. He was on his knees when he kissed her. There really wasn't much left to say after that.
There was this song he kept playing a few days before he died. It still haunts me now. The soft humming and slights of the piano keys and the delicacy of the singing, and how his face mellowed into a strange calm whenever he was zoned in. Every break in tone, ever sullen weepy melancholic repeat of bridge, every word breathed into him. That was still playing when I found him; and I was so in shock I couldn’t even cry or shout or anything. I knew he was gone, I knew it, but for some reason I thought maybe they could pump his stomach, maybe they could cut him open or just, have a wizard bring him back or something!
Have you ever held someone you loved so tightly with the intention of never letting go, because you know you’ll never get them back? Have you ever held your dying friend? Have you ever looked at someone and known that you have never been more sorry that you couldn’t be enough? If you haven’t, you can’t possibly know.
So here are all the details: Tommy Guller was 17 y.o. I found him in his bathtub, drenched but fully clothed. Pills were scattered on the counter, some spilled over onto the floor. There was no blood anywhere. There was no one else home. It was just him and his music and his meds – and that was the problem.
Now please, leave me alone.
