It was fourteen years ago, my brother's best friend - and someone who basically was my second brother - committed suicide. We all called Jeff family, and I actually thought he was my brother for the longest time when I was younger, it wasn't until I became a teen when I realized he came from a highly dysfunctional family and basically joined ours as a result.

Jeff was hilarious, and a prankster, but constantly in and out of trouble. My brother had managed to sober up, but Jeff hadn't, so they were arguing a little that month. However that week, Jeff's life turned around in a good way: he got a new car, a new really well paying job he had wanted badly, and his sobriety was on track.

I'm never sure what happened, but my brother and Jeff got into a fight, and that was the night Jeff committed suicide. Apparently Jeff tried to reach my brother multiple times prior to his death, but my brother ignored it because he was pissed. No note, nothing.

I found out at school in my favorite class the next day, they actually pulled me out to let me know. It was like I had been hit by a truck, and someone was playing a cruel joke. I just remember screaming, and the teacher's aide trying to calm me down. They sent me home.

In the meantime, my brother is flipping out because he ignored the phone call, and we're all dealing with a mix of anger and just overwhelming sadness. But there was mostly anger. A LOT of anger. No one thought he was selfish, but we were angry because we couldn't UNDERSTAND. Everything was going right for him, so why did he do it? So we misdirected our anger on each other. Why didn't my brother answer the phone? Why did I call him a lazy dumbass? Why did mom not see him for lunch that week?

The funeral was terrible, it was open casket. I spent the entire time expecting him to wake up and it to be a huge joke, and he was a prankster. It was awful.

I still get teary when I think of him, because I loved him like a brother. My brother got memorial tattoos. But to just kick us when we're down, before he died here got my brother a puppy for birthday.

Three years after he passed, we had to put the dog down from auto immune disease issues (it was really, REALLY bad) and my brother absolutely broke, since that was the last thing Jeff gave him.

I suffer from major depression, and struggle with suicidal thoughts on a constant basis. I have to go into a dark place, and remember how this made my family feel (we weren't even blood related), and the reactions, and that very honestly keeps me around. I still don't view suicide as selfish, something was very wrong in his world, and I wish we could have helped, but suffering is fucking terrible. I don't wish the suffering of a person, or a family who had lost someone to suicide on anyone. It's awful.