Haunted

The sadness over the suicide of a young man I only met once envelopes me constantly. I keep returning to the thoughts of how much potential no longer exists, of what could have beens won't be realized. Of how beautiful he truly was. Why didn't he see these things about himself?

I keep back the tears, not wanting my family to see the sadness I'm wrapped in right now. I'm not sure they would understand. I don't even understand it myself. I didn't really know him but for the one day I spent enjoying his writing. He gave me a gift that day, and I told all I knew who would apprciate it about that gift. He had a gift to give the world. Why didn't he realize this?

What haunted him so much?

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