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The Grim Reaper
by
Joanna Rozo
“Please don’t be mad at me.”
“Why, what did you do?”
“Just read it.”
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 didn’t 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 couldn’t breathe.
I reread it over and over not believing what I already knew. She didn’t 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 couldn’t live without me, now she was saying goodbye. I couldn’t
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
didn’t 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
didn’t 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 didn’t 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 didn’t think
about suicide so much. So I became distant towards her again, just making the
situation worse. She then said if friendship wasn’t going to work, then maybe we
shouldn’t 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
haven’t gone through with it. I still have her name cut into my leg, and I
don’t! 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 I’m not going to kill myself over some girl! But she wasn’t
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 don’t 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 didn’t matter because I was in a relationship, I was with her and
didn’t think of anyone else. Now I feel entirely lost. I considered forcing
myself to be straight, but I know I can’t do that, I’m not that strong. All I
want is her, I don’t know how I’m going to survive this, but I’m going to try.
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