Monday, February 1, 2016


Priya was 24 and had gone through some things. Eventually she got tired of fighting, so she prepared a letter and a fundraising page to help her family after the fact. And now she's gone.

I am 23, and I am devastated. Because I read the story and her letter, and I've been exactly where she's been. What happened to her in her life may have differed from what happened to me in mine, but I know those depths. I know how encompassing that darkness can be. It's hard to recover from hopelessness. I was up at 6:30 this morning crying to my mom about this. I don't think I've cried this hard for someone I don't know since Charleston 9. It's just like when I learned about Karyn Washington's passing. It hurts.

It hurts because she didn't make it. Like she was me or could've been me, and her not making it means "we" or "one of us" didn't make it, and I really wish she could've stuck around. I wish she would've made it.

I don't know you, but I love you, my sister Priya. I know how much you were hurting and how hard you tried. And even though you didn't make it through, you left behind something good and beautiful. Peace be upon you and your family. Rest.

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