God, I didn't want to write this. And how silly am I going to look, thinking there's internet in heaven. But maybe someone will read this and not do what you did, they'll not kill themselves.
I have a small number of loyal readers, people interested in my opinions, but, up until now, I've never gotten too personal. I've never once told anyone what to do, until today. Kids are under so much pressure to fit in that gay teens are taking their own lives in record numbers so we have to do something.
God I miss you today. I remember you buying me that purple shirt, at Chess King, at the start of the school year. I loved that shirt because you told me it looked good on me. You were dead a few weeks later.
What you chose to do wasn't cowardly. In fact, I think it took guts, but it was so very selfish. I mean, did you not stop and think that it'd fuck me up for real, forever?
One night, a few years back, a girl I was seeing was going through a box of my photos, you know, trying so hard to get close to me. She held up a great shot; you and me, poolside in Palm Springs. "He was so handsome," she said, and I loved her for saying it.
I still do that first magic trick you taught me. And wow- years later, backstage at Caesars Palace, I'd do it for none other than ORSEN WELLS, who chuckled and asked, "Where'd you learn that trick?" I proudly replied, "My brother. He was a magician." You were.
How many times on the set of 'Las Vegas' did I see you in the likeable star JOSH DUHAMEL, and how weird I must have seemed when he'd come over and say 'Hi," and I'd just stare, missing you. There are times I have to look away from the television, when the handsome Australian surgeon comes on screen to talk to Dr. House. And young JOSH HENDERSON, especially when his hair was longer and lighter, is just about impossible for me to look at, but I've found a way to cheat tears. I'm using him as a character in my new novel, bringing you back to life if only on my Mac and if only for me.
A guy told me once to always do your best and to go out of the house looking your best because you never know who is watching. That was you-you told me that, teaching me how to dress, reminding me that grooming isn't for sissies. Well, I took your advice but you didn't. You took your life.
There are tough-as-nails guys like writer STEVE FRIESS, living life out loud. My friends in the LGBT community should be proud of men like Steve, and they are. Me too.
To anyone who thinks that life sucks because you're different: Call someone, hell, call me (702.808.6306).
To anyone who feels bullied because you're not like the others: Tell someone, hell, tell everyone.
And to anybody who is thinking that life isn't worth it: Please think about those who will be left behind and then live, live another day. I'm begging you. Please.
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