He was a good guy.
Not to me, or my friends, but he was a good guy to his friends and family. And I feel guilty for hating him for so long and not being able to forgive him.
Sometimes, when we would run into each other and no one else was around, he was the nicest person to me. And I wish I had the privilege of experiencing that when others were around.
I wish the expectations of the popular guy didn't corrupt him. He was a nice guy, but not when his reputation was being tested.
I wish he had the opportunity to escape from this small town and prove us all wrong; that he was more than ‘that’ guy in high school. He could have done great things, made our small town a famous place maybe.
I wish he had proved me wrong sooner. That he was a good guy, and that I didn't have to find  this out when the funeral came.
I wish he didn’t leave his girlfriend alone to grieve. Or his best friend, the only survivor of the accident, that took multiple lives.
I wish my gay best friend understood that even though he didn't want to be mean to us, he had too. Because the world isn’t always about right or wrong.
And I wish I had the chance to tell him I forgave him, for everything.