An Open Letter To Michelle Carter, The Woman Who Urged Her Boyfriend To Kill Himself

Youtube / CBS Boston

Dear Michelle Carter,

Unlike you, I loved my high school sweetheart. He was my whole world at the time and I gladly savored every moment spent with him. His sweatshirt still sits in my closet and my small tattoo reminds me of him every day. A picture of him still makes my heart skip a beat and my family still ugly cries when we talk about the night we lost him. He died five years ago and we are all still grieving.

His parents and I talk often. They miss their son. You should have seen them grieving. Their pain was so evident. Their hurt radiated and they transformed into different people. The light left their eyes and it’s only just now slowly coming back. But they’ll never be the same. None of us will. There’s a gap in our hearts because we miss our Taylor. When he died, a part of all of us died.

Taylor did not kill himself. He passed away spontaneously in a tragic car accident. We did not have the opportunity to tell him goodbye. You did. I didn’t have the opportunity to tell him to turn around or go another way. You did. I didn’t get to tell him I love him one last time. You did.

I was forced to endure heartache like you’ll never experience. I held his dead body and cried in the arms of his mom and dad. I starved myself and prayed for death. I began taking medicines to help me sleep in order to dull the pain for a couple of hours, only to be greeted by the night he died over and over and over again. I endured therapy and lost a part of myself in the healing process.

Now I’m in a different place. I’m married with a good family of my own. But I still feel empty some days. There’s still a black cloud over my head every now and then that I just can’t shake. My husband has endured my emotional outbreaks; he has to watch his wife cry over another guy. How sad. He has to deal with my constant pestering.

“Where are you?”

“Are you ok?”

“I passed an ambulance, are you home yet?”

“Why didn’t you call me to tell me you were safe?”

I’m haunted, and you should be too.

Did you hurt when you saw his parents crying? Did you hurt when you attended the funeral of the boy you “loved”? Did you enjoy the attention?

Let’s talk about the attention. You should have been there when I tried to go back to school. I ended up in the floor of the principal’s office, crying because people wouldn’t stop staring. They hugged me constantly and cried when they saw me, but I didn’t want that. I wanted to be left alone. Did you want to be left alone? The text messages on your phone showed that you loved the attention. There is still a box in my closet of unopened letters from friends and family that I try to read every month, but the pain is unbearable. These people hurt for me. Did you like that? I couldn’t, and still can’t, stand it. You should have been there when his face was posted all over the school, all over social media, all over town. And it would take everything within me not to throw up due to the overwhelming sadness. You should have seen the people whispering about me. You should see the people now who still only know of me as “the girl who lost her boyfriend”. You should have been there when I starved myself, and then when I couldn’t stop eating. When my weight dropped down to a scary, unhealthy level. Did you do that?

The answer is no. You loved it. You craved it. You wanted it. You told him to die so that you could have it. I don’t understand it. I can’t bear to hear your name or see your face on the internet. You wanted what almost killed me. You put his parents through a living Hell and pretended to console them.

I wish you could have been there. I wish you could have seen it. But I also hope you stay in jail. People can now google your name and look at you in complete disgust because the pain you have caused is unbearable. There’s your attention. I hope you’re happy.


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