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The Grim Reaper


Joanna Rozo

ďPlease donít be mad at me.Ē

ďWhy, what did you do?Ē

ďJust read it.Ē

She handed me the notebook that we wrote to each other in. I already knew what it was I was about to read. I walked to the table where I ate lunch and she went to her class. I opened the notebook and read. At first I didnít even understand! the words, but when it finally hit me I had to fight back the tears. I felt like her hands where around my throat, I couldnít breathe.

I reread it over and over not believing what I already knew. She didnít want to be together anymore. She, the one who said the words I love you first, she called me perfect (more than once), she had my name carved into her legs in about three different places, she painted me a picture in her blood. She had said she couldnít live without me, now she was saying goodbye. I couldnít believe it. I wanted to scream, I wanted to cry, but instead I cut. I cut the date into my leg 6/3.

Not only was she leaving me, it sounded like she wanted to leave everything. I knew that if she ever took her life, so would I. She meant so much to me; not only was I stricken with the pain of her leaving, I was also in fear that she was going to commit suicide.

She kept saying she still loved me; she just needed to find herself. She said it would only end in pain. She said she still wanted to be friends. I told her I didnít know if I could, she said we have to stay friends because going from so close to nothing is murder. I agreed to stay friends. I wanted to scream, I wanted to cry.

On the bus ride home I did cry, and when I arrived home I cried some more. That night I cut some more. I wanted to scream, I wanted to die. It was a Friday and on the following Monday I came to school wearing all black. I wore thick black eyeliner, and black nail polish. I spent the 30 or so minutes before class listening to AFI on my portable CD player. I was distant towards her, because I didnít know how else to act. The next few days it was like nothing had happen. We talked and laughed with each other. But I was still hurting, because we were just friends.

Soon afterwards I felt better because I realized, I didnít need her. But this calmness ended. I did need her. She was my reason for living; she was my everything. With her I was actually happy, I had self-esteem, and I didnít think about suicide so much. So I became distant towards her again, just making the situation worse. She then said if friendship wasnít going to work, then maybe we shouldnít be friends. Her words breaking my heart, again. I apologized over and over; convinced that everything was my fault, telling her I needed her friendship. She came around, but things will never be the same. I need her, I want her, and I might die without her.

The knife touches my skin, the pills come close to my mouth, but I so far havenít gone through with it. I still have her name cut into my leg, and I donít! know if the scars will ever fade. The scar of the date she said goodbye is also still visible. June third, the day my happiness was taken away, the day I died.

Now everything I do seems pointless. Nothing matters if she is not in my life. My life is not worth living if my time is not spent with her. Suicide seems like the only way, but Iím not going to kill myself over some girl! But she wasnít just some girl, she was the girl. She is perfect for me, and I will never find anyone like her. I will never be as happy as I was when I was with her.

She was my first real love, and my first kiss. But we did much more than kiss. I will never forget the nights spent with her; the kissing, the cutting, and the feeling of ecstasy. Now I feel like being with someone else would make me a whore. I donít want to be with someone else though; I want to be with her.

For the past few months I have been questioning whether I still like guys or not. Before it didnít matter because I was in a relationship, I was with her and didnít think of anyone else. Now I feel entirely lost. I considered forcing myself to be straight, but I know I canít do that, Iím not that strong. All I want is her, I donít know how Iím going to survive this, but Iím going to try.

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