Elisabeth*

My lovely Elisabeth,
     "I hate myself so much." I read those words back in January. You wrote them in a Facebook message. Because they were never vocalized, I never heard you say them. But that doesn't make them any less powerful.
     It is now November. Snow came and melted, sunshine warmed and cooled, and leaves changed and fell. The cycle continues. As I write this, icy snow is lying in the dead grass right outside my window. It's been nearly two years since I last saw you. It's crazy. I'm witnessing first hand how absence makes the heart grow fonder.
     I don't know what my point is in telling you these things. When I began this letter, I knew exactly what to write; that changed very quickly. I'm trying my very hardest to keep myself from deleting anything but typos in this post. This is only the third paragraph of your letter, but I already regret writing certain things. Let me expand on them.
     You were right, sis. I can't help you. I can't be the one who makes everything all better. I can't make you stop hating yourself. I can't make you smile or laugh, I can't make you try or hope, and I can't make you stop doing things that are destructive to you. All I can do is be here to support you. And so I will. If you fall, I'll help you get up. If you cry, I'll lend you my shoulder. If you feel alone, I'll send virtual hugs your way. I pray for you, I think of you, I hope for you, and I believe in you.
     We've been through so much in the time we've known each other. I've seen you completely break down, and I've seen you put yourself right back together. You've watched me lose it in every way possible, and youve watched me give recovery my all. I scribbled you little notes and left them on your bed. You came to the dayroom to visit me inbetween every single one of your groups. When you left, I felt so alone. Not because I didn't have other friends; I had wonderful friends. It was because none of them could replace you. Elisabeth, I'll never forget that time in the dayroom when Ms. Renee had left, and there was no other staff there, and I started digging into my arm with a paperclip. You were sitting next to me on the two-person couch that faced the windows. I tried to hide it; I tried not to let you see. To this day I don't know how you caught on, because I was doing it under my pink monkey blanket. But you did, and all you had to do to make me stop was say that you loved me. That's it. You were already having a horrible day. You had skipped your groups, you hadn't slept at all the night before, and you got supplemented at breakfast. You were so deeply depressed that you barely spoke the entire day. But you managed to help me in the midst of your misery. Anyway, what I'm trying to get at is this: You've always, always been there for me. I don't know why, but you are. Even when I said the most terrible things to you, and even when you didn't reply to any of my texts or Facebook messages, you were there. Sure, I've doubted that. Sometimes I've even doubted you. But when it's all said and done, you're still there for me, just like I'm still here for you.     
     You're my big sister, and you always will be. I'm getting choked up as I type this, and the letters on the screen are getting blurrier the more my eyes sting. You wouldn't believe how much I miss you, and you wouldn't believe how sorry I am that things turned out this way. Will we ever see each other again? This question seems to haunt me every time I think of you.

BREAKING NEWS! I just read your status that says:
"I am strong
I am loved
I am beautiful
I am hopeful
I am courageous
I am imperfect
I am free"

That is so very very true, darling.

Elisabeth, I love you. I wish I could come up with words that you'd believe. I'm not very good at that. So, for now, I love you and for always I love you.

[You are strong
You are loved
You are beautiful
You are hopeful
You are courageous
You are imperfect
You are free]

*name has been changed