A/N: Wrote this in Physics class today. I was thinking about what Johnny would say to St. Jimmy up on his death. I'm probably going to do a companion piece to this based on what Jimmy would say to Johnny before the "suicide". Anyway, it's the first AI fan fiction I've posted, and I think it's not bad.

Dear St. Jimmy-

I thought I'd miss you more than I do. You were such a part of me, but I am happy to see you gone. The truth is, you were everything I always wanted to me. You were the patron saint of the city, their direct line (haha, literally), from them to the sweet escape that was all they had ever longed for.

And I was Jesus of Suburbia. I was saving all the bored, useless kids from their boring, useless lives. And I had disciples.

But, when I was you, I had desperate, passionate followers. I was better than Jesus of Suburbia. I was the Saint of the city. The city didn't need Jesus of Suburbia. The city didn't need my wide-eyed innocence. It needed your confidence.

And so did I. I needed it. It gave me Whatsername, the best thing that ever happened to me. You gave me the life I thought I wanted. And you showed me that I didn't want it after all.

But you came at a price. I thought the drugs were so great, Jimmy. But they ruined me. You ruined me.

I ruined myself.

You saved me, Jimmy, dragged me out of my boring, empty life into the pulsing life of the city. You took me from my lonely apartment to Whatsername's bed. And I needed those things, but I needed you more. Clearly, since I picked you over them, over her. And it nearly killed me. The drugs, the sex, the alcohol, the pretending the life, the hours spent staring my flaws in the face straight in the face and trying to romanticize them into something glamorous and sexy and cool.

It was just too much.

You ruined me, Jimmy; cost me my girlfriend and my wide-eyed dreaming. At least you showed me that I was only dreaming.

But, mostly, you saved me. You brought me home again. You put me back with Will and Tunny and my mom and Brad. You got me to write that letter to my dad, or God, or whatever. You pushed me over the edge and on to the ground, so that I was forced to take a look around and see everything that I had. You taught me how to live, showed me how to die.

Maybe the reason I don't miss you that much is that you're still here. You're there in the desperate urging for the needle in my vein. You're there in the nights I can't quite remember. You're there in Whatsername's perfume on my pillow. You're the gentle reminder that the city, the followers are always waiting. You're the unsettled feeling that half of me is missing. You're the arms that dragged me all over the world before they shoved me back home.

You'll always be a part of me now, Jimmy.

I think I'll always hate you. But I'll always love you too.

So, thank you, Jimmy, for teaching me to live, for showing me how to die. Thank you for being Jesus' salvation and damnation.

And so, Goodbye, St. Jimmy. I'll be seeing you.

With love,

Jesus of Suburbia