It’s true what they say, that time stands still for – or maybe “about” is better – so, about the one who is dead.
You were a 23-year old person when you died, half boy, half man.
You posted the source code of your bot for Tibia, written in C#, on GitHub on the 28th of June, 6 days before you took your own life.
The year was 2013.
I downloaded the two projects. You named both “initial release”.
I’ll turn 24 in 7 months.
There must be a message in those folders, in the code. I wish there was. I will keep looking.
After a while, I think it would even be neat if the message turned out to be that you wanted to keep your work, the one thing you were passionate about, from getting lost.
It would be neat if I could believe in this message as something that is left of you in this world, a little treasure, and if I could beat the doubts that reading this action as a message is just a reflection of my melodramatic expectations. That I am just reading meaning into sort of half-intentional actions you happened to perform to keep boredom and frustration at bay in those last days. But when a few days are all that is left of you in this world, every little thing does become meaningful.
Maybe that is okay.
One day I will be old, maybe 80 years old, and maybe I will have children and grandchildren.
But you will always be 23.
Maybe that will never be okay, but maybe that, in turn, is okay.
I have not talked with you during the last 2 years of your life for fear of hurting you more, but I miss you.