M.R.V.A. - my first love. I feel like a sick, sick person for still obsessing over him. I was 14, he was 16. It was an adorable little teenage love "thing." I hid my self-harm from him, and apparently, he hid all of his depression from me... I didn't even know he was depressed. We had been dating only a few short months when I called his house one evening. "Hi Mrs. A! Is Mike home?" All I heard was a slamming noise - I presume it was the dropping of the phone - and far-away sounding sobbing. I stayed on the line, hoping she'd pick back up. His father grabbed the phone and told me not to tell anyone, that he had shamed his family, and that he was dead. I found out later that his family (very religious, I guess?) was extremely ashamed that he had committed suicide and wanted it kept away from the media. He didn't even have an obituary. I was not invited to his small, quiet funeral service either. So, rest in peace, dearest Mike. I'm 21 years old now and I still think of you. I'm sorry I couldn't save you from yourself. I wish I had known.