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            I GRADUATED TODAY. I should be happy, but I'm not.

We were supposed to graduate together and move to New York.

You weren't supposed to die.

I'm not supposed to be left on my own, broken-legged and broken-hearted.

It's been four years since we met, and I still have my promise-ring; I still wear it everywhere I go.

I regret everything that happened, and the guilt is eating me alive. I could have prevented it — I could have told you put your phone down and look at the road.

Tell me, was one text really so important, that you were willing to give up your life?