3 years ago today one of my best friends killed himself.

He was 14. I was 15.

I'm now 18. I'm leaving home this year. I met someone wonderful, finally. I'm working really hard. Life is moving on.

I feel strange when I think about him now. It reminds me of school uniforms and bus rides, early mornings and sunset skies, assemblies and adventures and desperate late night phone calls. It feels so faraway. I'm 18, and he's still 14, I guess.

This isn't a love letter as such. It is a letter to you, Leo, wherever you are, from a much older me. I miss you. Think of me from time to time, will you?