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There still is not one bone in my body that can believe Neil is truly dead. That he killed himself. My Neil would never do something like that. He would always find a way out. I mean just two nights ago he was talking about running away together.
I was cuddled up against his side as he told me about where he would run away to. Where we could go. He wanted to move to New York City. He talked about the theater there, about how he wanted to be in Broadway. He painted it as the city of dreams. I refuse to believe that Neil can no longer have these dreams nor can I.
Neil can not be dead. Because if I accept that he is gone then I will have to come face to face with the fact that he didn’t say goodbye. As far as I know there is no letter, no explanation. There’s a small part of me that believes this is because he didn’t care enough about me to say goodbye.
I was sitting in our… my dorm room, resting on my bed. Neil’s side of the room was left untouched. Exactly how it was left. Nobody had come to gather his things yet.
I stood up off of the bed and it made a creak. I walked over to his bed. We used to lay in it together when the dorm got too cold. We would try to convince ourselves it was purely for warmth. But I loved the feeling of laying my head on Neil’s chest. Listening to his heart as it slowly started to beat faster.
His typewriter was left out on his desk. Exactly where it was the last time Neil used it. Collecting dust since the last time Neil sat to write at that desk. On top of the desk was the flyer for Midsummer Nights Dream. He was good. He was really good.
I felt a bit tear run down my cheek. The thing is, when your best friend dies you tend to care less about ‘being a man’. About keeping it all in to be strong.
Because I simply can not pretend that I’m alright when I have practically lost my world. I have lost my world. I lost the boy who made me feel like a real person. The boy who I would cuddle with. The boy who taught me to smile.The boy who I was never allowed to love. The boy who is dead.
There’s a gentle knock on the dorm room door. The only person who knocks that lightly would be Knox. Though he wouldn’t typically come by, both of my closest friends aren’t here anymore. So I guess that it would be him.
”Come in” I wiped my eyes. Sure enough Knox had pushed open the door.
”you uhm..you got mail. I figured I would pick it up for you since I was down there..” Knox extended his right arm. In his hand was a letter.
I took the letter into my own hands. I gave Knox a small nod to say ‘thanks’. He returned the gesture in a similar manner before turning out the door, carefully shutting it behind him.
My hands were shaking ever so slightly. I felt my heart drop to my stomach when my eyes laid upon the front of the letter. ‘Todd Anderson’ was scribbled out in a messier fashion of Neil’s handwriting. A broken cursive.
I knew exactly what this letter was. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to open it or not. If I opened the letter then I would read Neil’s last words. And if I read them then Neil would be really gone.
Nonetheless, with an unsteady hand I tore open the envelope with care. Inside was a folded piece of paper. I could feel tears start to swell in my eyes as I removed the paper from its envelope. I treated it as fragile and walked over to sit on Neil’s bed.
I let out a long huff of air before unfolding the paper to read Neil’s goodbye.
Dear Todd,
I suppose that when you are reading this that I am.. well. Dead. My father has simply pushed me too far this time. He was going to send me off to some other school. Just to spend many more years training to become a doctor. To fulfill my father’s dream. It’s stupid. I was never the son he wanted me to be, after tonight I won’t be anything. I simply do not have another option to get out of this other than death. I’m sorry. I am so very sorry that it has to end this way. I wish I could have said goodbye in a better way than this. Tell the rest of the Dead Poets Society that I’m sorry. Tell them not to dwell on my death and make sure they know why I did what I did- that my father drove me to do it. The pressure, the feeling of drowning. It all got too much.
But to you, Todd, there can be no harm anymore in admitting that I love you. Why waste my final words saying lies. The truth won’t matter anymore when you’re dead. I’m taking my last chance to write you a poem worth reading. A poem meant for only your eyes to see.
No words on a page can describe it
The melody that your eyes sing to me
A secret song
no other person can unlock it
For only you and I hold the key
To a song we were never meant to sing
It’s not a great poem, but it doesn’t matter that much. Not once I pull this trigger. I promise that one day we will meet again. Till death do us part.
Your friend and your love, Neil Perry
goodbye
After reading the letter I felt paralyzed. Neil’s handwriting was such a messy cursive. A concerning and stark contrast to is typical perfect and polished cursive script. On the letter there were several spots that had visible tear stains lying on the page.
Oh Neil… I’m not ready to say goodbye. We could have made it. We could have run away. We could have made it to New York City- anywhere else… we could have made it I know of it.
”Damn it!” I threw my hand against the wall. And slumped backwards into a fit of sobs. Why did he have to leave me alone. Death wasn’t the only way.. it couldn’t have been. If he had just talked to me maybe this could have been different.
My whole body was shaking. I tried the best I could to keep my crying somewhat quiet. Which resulted in an inability to breathe.
It felt like every gasp of air I took wasn’t enough. My voice began to make a cracked groan like noise with every breath I took. On top of the lack of air, tears were streaming down my face so fast they were tuning down my chin and dripping down onto anything below. My nose was running and I felt drool dribble from my mouth. It felt like I was choking.
The fit finally subsided when I broke out into an array of coughs, which ended up giving me enough of a break in between the sobs to actually catch my breath. I steadied my breathing.
If Neil were here he would have held me as I cried. He would have rubbed my back until the sobs subsided. He would have buried his face into my hair and probably would have muttered something about how soft it was or how good it smelled. Neil would have fallen asleep, holding me in his arms. I would have laid my head on his chest to listen to his heartbeat in order to drown out his snoring.
But I am alone. Neil no longer has a heartbeat for me to listen to. There is nobody to hold me now. No snoring for me to drown out.
There will be no one to wake me up. There will be no one to put me to sleep. There will be no one coming through that dorm door late at night anymore. Because Neil Perry does not live in this dorm anymore. Neil Perry lives in the dirt. And Neil Perry is not coming home.