Monday I learnt to my horror that a friend of mine killed himself. He was 25. I have no idea why, or what was going through his head. I saw him Friday night, he told me I looked pretty and he was happy to see me. When I left the club I looked for his friend to find Hrvoje to say goodnight, but apparently he was in their car.
I wish I had found the car to say goodbye, to show him somebody cared. I wish, I had done anything to touch him and help him. I liked him, we chatted about music, I was always happy to see him out. He had a lovely smile and I found him a sweet person. It is painful to type “had”. Because he is no more.
He shot himself. So final. So pointless.
My memories of Hrvoje:
- Meeting him at masquerade with Igor.
- Him coming in the store and looking for Cold Meat Industries style music.
- Seeing him dancing.
- Making him smile by my mis-pronouncing his name.
- Our awesome language barrier, my accent and his!
- Talking about music.
- Seeing him so serious, then slowly smiling.
Goodbye Hrvoje. Right now you haunt my dreams, I wish we could have talked in life like we do now in my dreams.