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gregspaper-blog · 5 years

Text

Hard

This paper could be important. But only if we make it. Greg’s story did not end well. Maybe if we talk about all this more, others’ stories won't end the same way.

Hard

my desires are unnatural,

not as He planned.

i have never acted,

but He knows all.

He knows what i think of him,

how i think of him.

how i feel for him.

He knows what i am.

He will deem me unworthy of His love,

because i crave his.

if i am unworthy in His eyes,

what will i be in theirs?

this is not what they planned,

not what they wanted.

do they know what i think?

what i feel?

this is what makes me different from them.

He will know,

but they will never.

how do i seek His forgiveness,

when it is my thoughts that are the sin?

how do i find their acceptance,

if i don’t have His?

what am i if i’m not enough

for Him?

for them?

who am i if i’m not enough

for Him?

for them?

where do I go from here

if there’s no way up?

______________________________________________________________________________

Let me give you some background information on who wrote this.

The boy who wrote this (we’ll call him Greg- not his real name but it’ll do) killed himself on March 24, 2019. He was 21 years old- would have been 22 exactly a month later.

I peer edited Greg’s papers for four years before he took his own life- I was two years older than him. The first paper was his college essay as part of a mentorship program his senior year of high school- it was phenomenal. About nine months after that he reached back out saying he was failing some college classes and asked if I’d edit some of his papers for $10 each- I happily agreed, I was broke. These new papers were messy and disorganized, when I asked him about it he just said he was having a hard time adjusting to college life and always felts distracted when writing.

The papers got better over time- I think his focus came back and he was began to get more adjusted. A lot of the papers I edited were psychology papers- I knew more about his life, feelings and family then I do about some of my best friends.

Greg and I had an interesting relationship that was hard to label. I was editing about one paper a week, usually committing around three to six hours to it with edits and re-edits. I can genuinely say that I felt like I knew him. His writing was so beautiful and personal; the content was equally beautiful and personal while also being complicated and relatable. But at the same time this relationship can hardly be considered a friendship because he gave me his emotional everything in some of the papers, and all I gave him were edits- never offering him any details about my own life. We never even really talked in person-just always over text, email or Google Doc’s chat. And these conversations were always focused on his papers (it just so happened that many of those papers were filled with self-analysis of his life and feelings in a personal and psychological way).

Despite how well I thought I knew him, I did not know his was suicidal. And I also did not know he was gay. Let me tell you what I did know about him. I knew he was salutatorian in high school. I knew in high school he ran track and played in the band- neither of which he made the team for in college. I knew he loved to sing. I knew he was quick to laugh. I knew he hated salami. I knew he loved his family. I knew he knew his family loved him. I knew that despite knowing this he still felt isolated from them. I knew change was hard for him. I knew he was deeply religious. I knew he went to church every Sunday and read the bible daily. I knew that his family was deeply religious. I knew he craved his family’s and God’s approval. I knew the God he believed in and the church he went to had very strict views on sensitive subjects (suicide, LGBTQ community, guns, drinking, gambling, etc). I knew he had anxiety. I knew he had depression. I knew he had OCD. I knew he was on medication for all three. I knew he was actively participating in therapy sessions.

I also know that on the day he died, Greg went to church- that is where he opted to spend some of his last hours. And that church refused to hold his funeral service because they believed suicide is a sin.

Now back to the poem.

How did I not know he was gay after that poem? Because I didn’t read it. Not until after he had died, while I was obsessing over any of his old emails or papers I could find- as one naturally does after losing someone. This particular poem he sent me for a poetry class he had enrolled in at the beginning of the semester. However hours after sending it (before I’d even seen the first email) he sent another saying he’d decided to drop the class and take another, asking me to edit a different paper instead. I was busy and distracted and thought nothing of it- editing the other paper that night, never giving the poem a glance or thought. Until I found the email again after he died.

When Greg killed himself he deleted everything off of his computer, phone and tablet- every text, every email, every documents and clearing all of his accounts. I can only assume he didn’t want his parents to see what he had on there, didn’t want them to obsessive over him anymore than they already would. This poem was never submitted to that poetry class. It was deleted from his email. The document deleted from his computer. It is very likely I was the only one to ever see it. His parent’s never did. They might not have even known. And I will never be the one to tell them. It was Greg’s choice who he told and I will not take that choice away from him. I don’t know his parents. What if Greg’s fears were true and him being gay negatively affects how they remember him now that he’s gone?

I can only hope I wasn’t the only one he ever tried to tell. Maybe he told a friend. Or a cousin. Or maybe even his parents- I really have no way of knowing. I hope he told someone, and someone told him is was OKAY to be himself and that he was loved.

I’m sharing this poem and his story with you now because I believe there is something to be learned from all of this. I just don't know what that something is. I’m not anti-religious. I don’t think God is bad. I hope there is a God. And I hope he proved every one of Greg’s fears wrong. Make of this story what you will. And share this story, talk about it. That way if there’s any other Gregs out there they won’t feel so alone. And please respect the anonymity of this paper and Greg’s identity. I only feel as though I can share this story now because I am only sharing his story- not his identity or personal details. This anonymity makes me feel as though I am not betraying Greg’s trust- please don’t take that away from me.

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