• Oswald: I love you, Ed.
  • Ed: What?
  • Oswald: I... I love you.
  • Ed: I don't understand.
  • Oswald: What is there to not understand? I, Oswald Cobblepot, love you, Edward Nygma.
  • Ed: Nope. I'm not getting it. I'm not following.
  • Oswald: Ed. A man comes to a crossroads in his life, and he has to make a choice. Does he choose safety and cowardice or does he opt for courage and risk everything? I choose courage. What I'm trying to say is... I love you.
  • Ed:
  • Oswald:
  • Ed: So you're in love with Isabella?
  • Oswald: Ed are listening to me?!
  • Ed: I'm listening
  • Oswald: Say something
  • Ed: I loved her Oswald.... an-
  • Oswald: No you didn't
  • Ed: Yes I did
  • Oswald: No Ed you didn't
  • Oswald: No offense Ed, but you can't fall in love with someone after only knowing them for a week
  • Ed: I may have only known her for a week, but it felt like I knew her for-
  • Oswald: Oh please Ed if you are going to go back to "It feels like I have known her my whole life" bull crap you can just shoot me now because I'd hate for that to be the last thing I hear.
  • Ed: SHUT UP!!! I will defend the fact that I loved Isabella for the rest of my days
  • Oswald: You know what Ed? You are right.
  • Ed: What?
  • Oswald: You did love Isabella. It is definitely a fact.
  • Ed: .....
  • Oswald: it is
  • Ed: Don't you dare
  • Oswald: Definitely
  • Ed: Oswald
  • Oswald: ...
  • Ed: ...
  • Oswald: An Alternative Fact
  • Ed: [Shoots him]

I’m not leaving, not without…Isabella

  • Ed: I know you were in love with Isabella!
  • Oswald: Oh... I... yes!
  • Ed: but you killed her...
  • Oswald: right.
  • Ed: but why?
  • Oswald: loves a weakness, right? hahahahaha am I right?? unless you've changed your mind. have you changed your mind???? I mean, I'm just asking for a friend. hahahaha oh boy, love, weakness. love. is. a. weakness.

This is my beautiful, red haired best friend. Her name is Rachel. We call her Rad, because that’s exactly what she is. This picture was taken some time last year, and personally I think it’s the most beautiful photo ever taken.

Rachel has the most amazing spirit. She puts her entire heart and soul into everything she loves. The energy Rachel brings onto a room is so astounding. It’s evident that she cares very deeply about everyone around her. Her smile blows away the clouds on a rainy day, and her big brown eyes hold wonders deeper than the ocean. I admire her so much.

Rachel loves music; My Chemical Romance and Fall Out Boy and Twenty One Pilots and Green Day and countless others. A few months ago she went to a Beartooth concert and got a concussion from the mosh pit, but didn’t notice until a few days later because she was so happy about crowd surfing and meeting the lead singer. About a year ago, Rachel and I were supposed to see Fall Out Boy live, but the show was cancelled. Instead of giving the money back, she decided to buy meet and greet tickets for a Panic! at the Disco concert that we were already planning on going to that summer. When we got to the front of the line, she was too awestruck to say anything at all, besides the word “hi”. I gave Dallon Weekes my drawing of him, and stuttered as I tried to speak to him. I was looking down at my shoes, but as Rachel was looking at him, she later told me Dallon was trying very hard to understand what I actually meant to say. “The Sweetest Tall Man Alive,” she called him. After we received our posters we went and sat in the grass next to a small lake in the venue. I cried. That was the best day of my life.

Rachel loves to draw. Mostly she draws portraits of her favorite people, who happen to be Gerard Way and Frank Iero and Brendon Urie. Her art is so impeccable that at first glance you’d think it was a black and white photograph. She never believes us when we tell her how good it is, but no one could ever deny that her art is absolutely immaculate. Last year, Rachel and I were sitting on my bed talking about how beautiful eyes are, especially PJ Liguori’s. She encouraged me to try and draw them, and even though I figured they would be trash, they actually weren’t that bad. A few weeks later I decided I was going to try and draw Rachel’s eyes, since they are so fascinating. I still haven’t finished the drawing.

Rachel loves poetry. She puts words together in the most perfect way possible. She doesn’t write much, but I think Rachel’s poetry should be published. Whenever I write something, Rachel is the first person I share it with, whether I’m proud of it or not. She gives me feedback on how to get better with my writing, instead of telling me its perfect, and it’s one of the things I respect most about her. She also loves photography. Her instagram is filled with pictures of nature that put professionals to shame. But even if she prefers to be behind the camera, she’s more beautiful than any photo she’s ever taken.

Rachel loves to sing. It may be quietly, but she does. She sings in our school choir, though it may be quiet and toward the back. She has a sweet voice. Sometimes, at the most quiet of times while shes sitting next to me, or laying on my bed, completely distracted and focused on something, she’ll hum quietly to herself. I don’t let her know I hear it, because if she knew, she’d stop. 

Rachel is absolutely hilarious. Hands down one of the funniest people I’ve ever met. She makes sarcastic jokes and jabs under her breath in class, only loud enough for my ears to pick it up, and I’d get into trouble from trying so desperately but failing to contain my laughter. She takes an interest in the memeiest youtubers as well. She’s mostly completely enamored with filthy frank, whether it be his music or stupid videos. She also loves h3h3; we reference his videos almost daily. She sends me snapchats of the cute flower filters on my favorite youtubers randomly sometimes, like idubbbz and maxmoefoe. Whenever I see a meme that reminds me of her, I send it to her, as does she for me. She always makes me laugh whether she means to or not.

Rachel loves makeup. Her eyeliner is always so sharp it can kill a man, and her highlight so bright it’s blinding. She also loves makeup in the theatrical sense. She was part of the makeup crew for our school play last year. We’re in the stagecraft class, and in this class is where we both feel most creative. Last semester we and a few others had the idea to take the kids story Goldilocks and the Three Bears, and turn it into a psychological horror film about an escaped mental patient that imprisoned an unusually hairy family whom she believed to be bears. We drew characters and costumes and light and sound plans. We titled it “Goldie”. Rachel later had the most amazing directors concept to turn our production of Shakespeare’s “Hamlet” into a play about an angsty teen from the 90′s. Shes helped us gather 90′s clothes and props, and a few weeks later the play was preformed this way. The skull in the play was replaced with a furbee, which was Rachel’s favorite part.

Rachel is short and adorable and has a great fashion sense, which is mostly a combination of plaid and band t-shirts; very 90’s grunge. She stands somewhere between 5′3-5′4, and though she hates it, her body is perfect. A lot of her wardrobe is band t-shirts which she’ll steal from me and keep for 3 months. She always steals my fuzzy pajama pants when she spends the night. She tells us not to call her adorable, but she really is.

Rachel is the most extraordinary person I’ve ever known.

On February 2nd, 2017, a windy Thursday morning, I met up with Rachel and a few other friends before I left out of town for a choir trip. It happened quickly. I said goodbye to all of them briefly before leaving on a school bus. I wish I had spent more time with them. I wish I’d hugged all of them personally and thanked them for believing in my passion for singing, as the choir trip I was about to leave on was for all the best choral singers in all of Colorado.

That night, after dinner, all the choir kids returned to their hotel rooms. My phone had died before I had even stepped foot into the restaurant, so I couldn’t contact anybody until I had plugged my phone back in. Before I could prepare for bed, my choir director pulled me away from my 3 roommates to tell me something. I’ve known my choir director for as long as I can remember, because he’s a very good friend of my parents. He’s never seemed as uneasy with me as he was at this moment, and he told me he’s never had to tell someone something like this before. He sat me down in his hotel room and glanced out the window for a minute before turning back to me. He then gave me the news.

That night, Thursday, February 2nd, 2017, Rachel took her own life.

I didn’t know what to say at all. What was I supposed to feel? I was in complete shock. I felt sick. I knew Rachel had been depressed for some time. I always tried to help her as best as I was able. But even as her best friend, I never knew she was suicidal.

I was offered a ride back home after I got the news, but I declined. I decided to stay, and sing, for Rachel.

Being out of town, I was very distracted. I was busy with 4, 5, 6 hour long rehearsals and concerts and bed sheets in a town that was not my own. Of course I was sad, but being in such an unfamiliar place, my feelings hadn’t caught up to me yet, and I guess it could arguably be considered a good thing that I was so distracted.

That Saturday, I drove home, and immediately dropped my suitcase off at my house and made my way to my other best friend’s house, who lives just up the street from me, to be there to support her. We talked about Rachel, why and how she did it. I won’t go into detail for the sake of her privacy. 

For the most part, there’s two reasons that I decided to write all of this out.

Reason number one is for coping. I figured that maybe it would make me feel better to type out all of the nonsense running around in my head. It’s been over a month since Rachel passed away and I feel it’s only just now began to fully knock me down. I’ve never dealt with a death so close to me before, and I’m not sure I ever will know how to handle it.

I do blame myself. People tell me not to, but I do. There’s no way to escape the “what if” thought. 

What if I hadn’t left out of town that day? If I had been in class that day to talk to her and make sure she was alright?

What if I had messaged her that night? Sent her a meme. Asked her how she was. The only time I’d talked to her that day was that morning, and she seemed fine. Happy, even. 

What if I had told her how important to me she was more often? I don’t think she knew how much she really meant to me. 

What if I had taken her more seriously when she told me about her problems, and knew that what she was showing me was only the surface?

What if it was an accident, and she never really meant to actually kill herself? 

There are so many ways that I feel it’s my fault somehow, even though I wasn’t even in the same city when it happened.

There are so many things I’ll never be able to do with her again.

School is not the same without her. It never will be. People say things, and I feel the urge to turn to her to make a snarky remark. But I remember she isn’t there. I feel the urge to remind her about assignments and choir rehearsals and inside jokes, but she’ll never be next to me again for me to tell her all these things that I need to say.

I’ll never be able to talk to her about new h3h3 or filthy frank or idubbbz or jontron uploads again. Rachel was the only person I could talk about them with. Never again will I be able to invite her over to watch the latest bad unboxing or pink guy music video. We’ll never listen to music together again, or quickly change the song when Welcome to the Black Parade comes on shuffle, or laugh about the fashion sense of Pre-Split Panic! at the Disco.

The second reason I decided to compile all my thoughts together is a “share my story” type of thing. I don’t want attention, I just want to say some things to anyone who might read this.


Never ever go to sleep at night on bad terms with someone you care about. I wasn’t on bad terms with Rachel when it happened, and I’m at least glad about that, but I can’t help but think, what if I was?

Tomorrow is not promised. Tomorrow is never promised. 

There are so many things that could happen in the blink of an eye. Let the people you care about know that. Be there for the people you love. Never let words go unsaid. You may never be able to voice them again. 

Rachel had the most amazing spirit, but the hole she left in the hearts of the people that loved her will never be filled again. Rachel loved music, but she’ll never get to hear any of her favorite music or new music again. Rachel loved to draw, but her pencil will never grace a page again. Rachel loved poetry, but no words will ever be put together in the way that only Rachel could again. Rachel loved photography, but her photo album will never progress. Rachel loved to sing, but no ears will ever hear her sweet voice anymore. Rachel was hilarious, but the silences where her jokes would arise will never be anything but quiet. Rachel loved makeup and theater, but she never got to see her directors concept for 90′s Hamlet come to life. Rachel was short and adorable, but no one will ever get to tell her how stunning she was again. 

Tell your friends you love them. You may not get the chance again. 

Do you know what I love most about Galavant? That I don’t hate anything in it or about it

Not even Madalena

I mean, sure, I hope she fails in her evil scheme - but more than anything I want her to see the light and give up the D’DEW so she and Gareth can go on vacation, zip line, and then get their happily-ever after as they continue living together as horrible, sadistic, human beings

Every single one of these characters are precious to me, and all I want is for them to all be happy and content