Letter to Kevin

Dear Kevin,

Hi, how are you?  This is Amy from Loyola Academy.  I went to school with you for one and a half years.  I heard you transferred to New Trier because of some problems you were having with other students.  I can relate, I transferred from Loyola to Resurrection a few days after that fateful day in Speech class when you asked me in an antagonistic tone in front of the whole class if I was gay.

That day has stuck with me for a long time.  It runs its course over and over in my mind.  I often think what I could have done differently, what I could have said, to stick up for myself against you, so that I hadn’t have fell into that black hole called depression that engulfed me to the point of mental deterioration. 

I used to be really mad at you, but I have come to realize that that was a time when we were both just kids.  I understand that you have egotistical problems, that you also suffer for depression.  This is why I feel like I can’t blame you for what happened to me.  In case you were wondering what happened to me, after the day when I stopped coming to class, I was hospitalized as an inpatient for about a week, and then I was an outpatient, and then I transferred schools. 

Try to understand that what happened to me wasn’t all because of you.  Many people led to my diagnosis of clinical depression: those that watched while I was hurt by you, even those who saw me moping in the hallway, and just ignoring me instead of saying hi, how are you, what’s wrong, etc.  I feel like if just one person had reached out to me during those days, what had happened wouldn’t have happened.  I wouldn’t have been hospitalized, perhaps, but even more, I would have more self-confidence, I would be happier. 

I also understand that people used to pick on you, because of you short height, and your apparent insecurities that showed themselves when you seemed intimidated by those other boys that tried to pick fights with you.  I know how it sucks to not feel good about yourself, and I know how it feels to not be able to vent the anger that comes from that.

So, I just wanted to let you know that I am well, and if it matters to you at all: I forgive you.  But do try to understand that I hope what happened to me will never, ever happen again to anyone else. 

Amy

P.S. I don’t remember if I went to outpatient, but the rest of this letter is valid.