I think everybody is haunted by the first person who they loved and lost. For me, that person was my friend Chris. He committed suicide when I was 17, and I've never quite been able to let it go.

It was one of those super intense relationships that you can only have when you're young and naive enough to completely lose yourself in somebody else. Our relationship was turbulent and probably unhealthy, but who has healthy friendships in high school?

Not long after we first met, our school had spirit week to celebrate our Homecoming game. You probably know the drill - you dress up to earn points for your class and show your school spirit. On twin day, Chris and I both dressed in long black skirts and Orgy t-shirts. He borrowed the skirt from me, and for almost ten years I've kept it. It has moved with me a number of times and survived countless wardrobe purges. I haven't worn it since he died, but I couldn't stand to get rid of it either.



Over the years, I've pulled the skirt out a number of times. It's a reminder of him, but more than that, it's a reminder of the pain that his death caused. I've had some long nights full of dark thoughts, and sometimes the thing that kept me going was thinking of the people who love me and who I love. Having someone close to you commit suicide is a unique sort of torture. You go over everything in your mind over and over again, trying to figure out what you should have done differently. You replay every conversation until you are numb, because maybe there was a warning sign that you missed. Having something that reminded me of Chris was a very visceral reminder of that pain. I knew exactly the sort of pain that I would cause if I killed myself, and I didn't want my loved ones to ever feel that way.

But over the years, my own depression has faded. I've been doing pretty damn well. Having this memento was preventing me from really thinking about Chris because all it reminded me of was the pain of his death. This task was just what I needed to convince me to let it go.

The only appropriate way to get rid of something like this is to burn it. Perfect for catharsis.

First I cut it into strips:


Then I grabbed a ruined pot from the kitchen and went out to my back yard and set the skirt on fire:


I didn't expect the cotton to burn quite so well, but it lit right away. Before I knew it, it was up in flames:


It was about two in the morning, and the fire looked gorgeous in the darkness:


It took about ten minutes to burn itself out:


I'm not quite sure how I feel now, but this is probably good for me. I now have tangible proof that I am moving on. I will always miss Chris, but I don't need to relive that pain anymore.