A letter to the dead

Buddy, Why did you have to go and leave me here.
Alone.
I know it wasn't your choice but I'm still slightly offended.
I've always heard that the good die young and I was too young for you to die.
I'm never going to have a better friend than you ever were.
I always thought that I'd just go to college and you'd come with me, but I guess that won't be able to happen.
You were always happy, no matter what I did or didn't do.
And now you are 6 feet under the ground and I can't even seem to find the sun.
You always loved to just sit in the sun and laze around, and now most of the time I stay inside to try and stop thinking about you.
Everybody says they understand, but nobody does. You were my best friend since age 2 when I hurt you and you didn't even care. (I mean, I'm sure you did, but you didn't retaliate or show it in any way.)
You were my go-to friend when I was having a rough day, I would pick you up and we would just sit together and listen to some music or talk. But I did most of the talking. You were more of a quiet, listening type. Which is what I needed and still need.
You never complained about how I sleep too much or listen to my music too loud, because you understood.
You have always been the one there to comfort me.
You always knew what to do, in every situation that you were in.
I guess that's why my family and I joked around that you were 'the old man'.
I don't want a new friend, I want you.
It was just slightly ironic (at least I find it ironic) that you died the day before Memorial Day.
I keep expecting to see you around whenever I need you, but you aren't.
It's been almost two weeks since you died and I can't seem to get my mind off of you and how I wish you were still here.
So I guess you could call this a letter to you (the dead).
I want you back. I'm willing to bargain with what I have.


please....  .  .  .. .