Her name was Scarlet.
I didn’t know that until today. I always knew her as Fayrah. She was a friend on World of Warcraft; one I’d lost touch with when I stopped playing so much. She was one of the sweetest people I talked with in that group, and I wish I had kept in contact with her.
She killed herself earlier this week.
When I knew her better, she never talked about her problems with me. She was a private person, which makes sense. Depression is a nasty beast: it can have viciously sharp claws on the best of days, let alone as a topic to talk about when you don’t know the person on the other end of the conversation that well.
I wish she had. I wish I’d kept in contact. I wish whatever demons that were haunting her gave her some respite; let her see a pinpoint of light that wasn’t identified as an oncoming train.
Now, seeing how many people are absolutely shattered by her departure far too soon, I wish she knew how many people loved her. I wish it would have made a difference.
I hope she’s found her peace.