To write love on her arms.

 It's been a really tough last few days for me. One of my bestest friends passed away on Friday night.

You know that gorgeous, vibrant girl- the life of the party, the centre of attention (not even on purpose, just by nature)? That was Alaleh.
Her voice was loud and commanding; her laugh was infectious (if not slightly annoying) and her smile just brilliant. She had many friends and loved each of us as precious gifts. When we spent time together, she'd always make me feel like the most important person in her life. I know she made a lot of people feel this way. She was like this with all her friends, making us feel so special and worthwhile.
Despite the geographical distance between us in the last five years, we remained so close - never losing the bond that we shared when we met in 1999.
Unfortunately, underneath her bubbly facade, she battled demons too strong for her fragile mind to handle. Despite the happy face she put on when she was with her friends, when she was alone I think her depression took hold of her and this last time, it won the battle.

This makes me so angry, so upset.
Suicide should not even be an option. Imagine everything your parents went through; those sleepless nights, all that money spent; joyful tears preparing you for school, for life. It's a long and difficult process to bring life into this world. Nine months of your mother's pregnant struggle and years to mould you into becoming a good human being.
Yet it is just so easy to die.
A pill too many, a cut too deep. A step too quick, a step too late.
We really do have the choice to just end it. But it doesn’t mean we should.
The impact of this kind of decision affects so many people. Even my friends who didn't know her personally feel affected by it.
It's because a bright, young girl of 25 years, simply gave up.

I guess now all we can do is accept her decision. It's her life, and if it was that unbearable, can we really blame her? We never knew the extent of her pain, and it's too late to do anything about it now. I just wonder what we could have done. I guess her closest friends did know that she was depressed and some of us may have even knew she was suicidal. But she was taking the right meds, talking to professionals. We loved and supported her, I'm sure she knew this. So what else could have been done? Like I said, we never knew her pain, we never walked in her shoes.

I’m just so distraught and confused. I don't want to believe the fact that she's gone, and I'm upset that she's done it on her own will. I'm upset that I'll never, ever see her again. I'm upset that I can't be there at home supporting the rest of our friend group during this time. I'm angry at whatever it was that caused her sadness. I'm angry that she couldn't have been the strong girl I knew her to be all through high school. Maybe I'm also angry at myself for not being around to help her when she probably needed me most? It hurts knowing that maybe I didn't take her seriously enough all the time. The thought is killing me...

But all I have now are the memories.

Since she moved to my high school, the 'popular kids' always had a thing against her. She stood up to them though. Made sure they knew she was a force to be reckoned with. She remained the bigger person, more likable than any of the rest. I remember she gave me all the advice I needed for my first high school boyfriend. She squealed excitedly and shook me silly when I told her of my first kiss. Then she helped me make the poor boy jealous when things didn't work out. We, along with the rest of our 'gang' prepared ourselves for her sweet sixteenth - her first house party. Then at the end of the night after all the gatecrashers left, we all stood garbage bags in hand, picking up empty bottles off the whole street. I let her dye my hair once, just before the exam period. It turned out crazily blotchy and after a couple of comments about my zebra hair colour, was forced to wear my hair up in a bun for the rest of the day. We loved the beach, and when the weather in Melbourne permitted (rarely), we'd be tanning buddies. She'd always win the race for a darker tan. And also she was the very first person to see me in a bikini! I remember we'd always have the same haircut - by chance. After graduation, we met up one day, the first time in months since we started uni, and there we were with the same straight-bang haircut. Totally psychic (that's what she'd always say).
Just last October, she was with me when I got my first tattoo. We both got one on our arm.
We wanted to keep one another in our sleeves as a reminder that we were never alone.
She got a tulip (her favourite flower), and the English translation of her Persian name, 'buttercup'.
There are so many more memories just racing through my mind. I'm trying to savour each and every one, never wanting to forget her.
She knew me inside out, she knew my beliefs, I knew hers. We knew each others fears and doubts, hopes and dreams.

I will miss her so much.

I still can't believe you're gone.
May your soul now rest in peace, Alaleh.
26/8/1984 - 29/1/2010
xx