A/N: Please review! Oh and listen to “Faking My Own Suicide” by Relient K while reading this if you have it! lol anyway, I’m having trouble connecting to this story, so I’m not sure if anyone else will like it. Definitely let me know what you think. I definitely don’t think it’s my best writing. I could use some encouragement, but be honest!!! Don’t tell me you like it if you really don’t. Because that sure doesn’t help me improve!! Thanks guys!

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Faking My Own Suicide

I’m not happy anymore.

College is the best thing that has ever happened to me. This is how I met Caroline. I’m an English Literature major and she’s an English-Art double major. We met in late August in a Shakespeare Analysis course. We became each other’s best friend and decided to move into an apartment together just outside of campus.

We even sleep in the same bed.

No, not like that. Caroline’s a lesbian. And to top it off, I’m straight.

I have been in love with Caroline for more than nine months now. Caroline purposely tells me to buy clothes that may me look gay. And she tries to do these things with my hair so that all her other friends don’t think we’re sleeping together. Like instead of being afraid of how she’s different, she’s actually only afraid of people thinking she’s “normal”.

But that’s the way Caroline is. She is unlike any other girl I’ve ever met before her. She’s completely breathtaking on the outside, and beautiful and smart and creative on the inside.

But back to me not being happy.

Do you know what it’s like to be in love with someone who doesn’t even know? Who doesn’t love you back? Who doesn’t even like your gender?

Do you know what it’s like to not tell someone how you feel even though you daydream about her in class and you think about her when you first wake up and just before you fall asleep?

Well I do. And it’s killing me.

Since the middle of last semester, I’ve been trying to think of ways to show her how I feel and to see if she might feel the same.

I mean, I’ve always wanted her to be happy, but I admit I’m thankful she hasn’t found anyone yet. She says she just can’t find someone who makes her feel a certain way. I’m not sure what way she’s talking about.

I really enjoy living with her. Even though we don’t do anything more than talk and occasionally lay up against each other. She thinks it’s by accident.

Sometimes I just lie there and watch her sleep after my eyes have adjusted to the dark of our bedroom. Once she’s deeper in sleep, I run my hands through her long, dark hair, and I wish her eyes are always open because they’re such a bright green and her dark, long lashes make them stand out and almost glow in the dark.

It’s so hard to hold myself back when my mind wanders. Although my hands are really just in her hair, I wish I could just run my hand down past her ribs, to her hip and onto her stomach. I wanted so bad to just put my arm around her and pull her in close to me.

But if I ever tried, she wouldn’t trust me anymore. Caroline always says she’s so happy to have finally found a male friend that isn’t constantly trying to take advantage of her.

I would never hurt her. But it’s so hard not to touch her. And sometimes when she sings in the shower, I want to just walk in and stand with her under the running water, as she whispers the songs in my ear, her slippery skin squeezed beneath my fingers.

But no, I can’t tell her how I feel. I know she’s a lesbian. But she’s got to love me. We’ve been close for a while now and she hasn’t once showed me how she feels. I really think she loves me. She just doesn’t know it yet.

But I finally thought of a plan.

I figured there has to be a way to make her think about what she feels for me, without freaking her out and scaring her away.

Maybe if I’m gone forever, she’ll be so sad that she will realize she has always been completely in love with me.

So I’ve decided that I’ll leave her a letter and tell her I can’t live like this anymore. I can’t be around her everyday, living with the pain of wanting to marry her and grow old with her, when she isn’t even interested in me.

Then right when she thinks she’ll never have the chance to tell me she loves me, I’ll walk into our apartment and she’ll know it was all pretend. She’ll be so relieved and never want to be without me another minute of our lives. She’ll run up to me and throw her arms around me and soak my shirt with tears and we’ll kiss for the first time and we’ll know we can hold each other as much as we want and we can walk out in public holding hands.

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It’s past midnight and I’m sitting at the desk in our bedroom doing homework. By the time I finish reading, all the words seem jumbled anyway because all I can think about is Caroline, who sleeps only a few feet behind me.

I space out staring at the bulb inside the desk lamp for a while and I can still see the glow when I look at any other spot in the dimly lit room. Caroline is fast asleep and I can hear her light breathing; the blankets are barely moving up and down.

I look back down at my notebook and begin writing what she needs to read, to think she doesn’t have me anymore. I really want her to think I’m gone. I can’t wait to be with her.

I write until I feel like I’ve told her all I need her to know about me, and then I fold the page up, sticking it underneath my pile of books.

I turn off the lamp, take off my shirt and pants, and slowly slide into bed, eager for the morning light.

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I wake up a few minutes before Caroline does, and I go into the kitchen to get tea ready for her to bring to class.

I sit at the breakfast bar reading a magazine and smile when I see Caroline walk down the hall to the bathroom, her hair all roughed up from her tossing and turning last night.

She’s beautiful no matter what the circumstances are.

Within a half hour she is dressed and her hair is still dripping wet but she doesn’t care. She grabs her art supplies and all her writing materials.

She tiredly plops them onto the counter and I tell her not to worry about it, that I’ll pour her tea.

I put the lid on her cup of tea and before she has a chance to pick up all her stuff again, I hug her tightly. I wouldn’t want her to think she never got to say goodbye. That would be taking it a little too far, right?

Anyway, I help her carry her stuff to her car and she kisses me on the cheek, thanking me for being so sweet. The feeling on my cheek tingles long afterward.

She pulls out of the gravel driveway cautiously and I watch her drive away.

I walk back into the apartment, down the hall and into the bedroom. I pull the letter out from under the pile and I read it once more to make sure it says exactly what I want it to.

I fold it back up and put it right in the middle of the counter on the breakfast bar. It would be hard for her to miss it once she got home later.

I decide to skip class and go for a walk instead, since I need to be here when she gets back.

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It’s late afternoon, and although it’s early in the day still, the sunlight looks orange, like night is coming already. I hear Caroline’s tires pull into the driveway so I slip out the back door and run to the side of the house, so I can see in through the windows when she gets inside. My heart is racing. I’m not breathing as fast as I need to because I’m trying to stay quiet.

Caroline walks in the front door, the screen not shutting but bouncing behind her a few times instead. She places her keys on our designated spot on the wall next to the clock in the kitchen.

She’s wearing a knee-length white dress with knotted straps that emphasize her collarbone. Underneath the dress she is still wearing paint covered blue jeans and she is barefoot. Even though her hair is covering most of her back, I remember that the dress leaves all of her skin exposed down to her waist. The big amber necklace she wears every day reflects light in my eyes even through the window.

Caroline always has a sleepy look about her, but her eyes are so big and wide, you always know she’s taking in everything around her. And she is always listening even when you know she’s not interested in what you’re saying.

She lays a large, thin, black suitcase on the breakfast bar next to the letter I left. The counter is white so she doesn’t notice it yet.

The portfolio is covered in magazine cutouts and quotes from books she loves. She hates plain. She takes her own personality and plasters it over everything she doesn’t think has enough color or meaning.

She turns around, grabs a stained-glass cup and fills it with ice and water from the front of the refrigerator door. She takes a few sips and places it on the counter, then turns back around to face her portfolio.

She slowly unzips it, shifting it clockwise so she doesn’t have to reach too far across it.

She opens it up like a book and starts pulling paintings out one by one.

I strain my eyes so that I can see each one before she carries them to each nail scattered on the walls all over the apartment, but spaces them out perfectly, as if they were hung there all along. As she pulls out the last painting, the largest one, she looks at it, and a smile slowly creeps up onto her face.

I can’t see the front of the canvas from the angle she’s now holding it at. She puts the painting faced down on the counter and turns around to take another sip of water, even though the ice has already melted and the water may be warm by now.

Now she’s facing my direction again so I move over a few feet in fear of catching her eye. As she was zipping up her empty portfolio, she finally notices the small, folded, white piece of paper that is unlabeled. She looks at it curiously then picks it up to begin unfolding it with the tips of her tiny fingers.

As her eyes begin quickly working their way from left to right across the top of the page, I begin reciting the letter in my head.

Dear Caroline,

I’m sorry but I can’t live like this anymore. There’s no way you wouldn’t know by now that I’m madly in love with you. I would do anything for you. But I need to leave now. I know you’re strong enough. You’re an amazing person and I know you’ll find someone perfect for you someday. But you’ve made it clear that I’m not the one for you. Being around you is like Heaven but the thought of never being able to hold you hurts like Hell. I hope you can forgive me for doing this. Although you’re probably thinking it is, it’s not your fault. I’m glad you’re able to stay true to who you really are.

I decided to go down to the pier and sit on the dock in case you wanted to stop me. But by the time you get home, it may be too late. I just wanted to remind you that I love you and I care about you and I wish you luck in school and finding a new roommate. If anyone asks, you don’t need to show them this letter. It’s for you to keep.

I’ll be with you always,

Rory

Caroline’s eyes stop moving but she is still staring at the letter. I see her eyes are turning pink but her face is now a washed-out pale.

She drops her arm and the letter is now at her side, while her other hand is covering her mouth and although I can’t hear her, I can tell she’s crying. She’s crying really hard.

Seeing her cry like this makes me regret the whole thing. I’ve never seen her cry for this long before. It just has always torn me up inside. Even when we’ve fought in the past, she would start, and I’d take back whatever I said that made her upset, even if I knew I was right.

Knowing full well I can’t press her head to my shoulder and hug her to make her stop, I have to turn away briefly because it hurts to watch.

She is still standing in the same position as when she began reading the letter but she is looking around quickly as if she doesn’t know what to do, or she doesn’t know where she is anymore.

She stops crying, even though her face is soaked and dripping and she picks up the last painting off the counter and walks down the hall.

She is out of my view so I run, bent over underneath each window on the side of the house. By the time I reach the back door to run inside and tell her everything is okay, she is no longer in the bedroom. But I can see that she already hung that last painting up on the wall.

It’s a beautiful abstract painting of two people kissing. I stand still in the bedroom until I realize who the people are. It’s a girl with long, dark brown hair and bright green eyes, with her lips pressed against a pale boy with sandy colored, shaggy hair.

She does. She loves me. Caroline really does love me. She’s loved me all this time and she knew it. Why didn’t she ever tell me? My heart lifted as thoughts were racing through my head.

Exhilarated, I start pacing down the hall ready to tell her I was alive this whole time and that we can be together for the rest of our lives. I am ready to tell her I want her to be my wife and have my children.

I make it all the way into the kitchen and I wonder why she hasn’t noticed someone was in the house yet.

As I pass through the doorway, my mouth opens to say her name but no sound comes out because Caroline is lying on the floor, her face and hair soaked in tears, and my letter in her hand, half dissolving in the puddle of blood that’s growing larger next to her wrists.

I stand there blank and motionless, just staring. Looking at nothing but Caroline lying on the floor.

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So I’ve made up my mind

I will pretend to leave this world behind

And in the end you’ll know I’ve lied

To get your attention

I’m faking my own suicide

I’m faking my own suicide

Because I know you love me

You just haven’t realized

I’m faking my own suicide

To hold a double funeral

Because a part of you will die

Along with me

I wish you thought that I was dead

So rather than me

You’d be depressed instead

And before arriving at my grave

You’d come to the conclusion

You’d loved me all your days

But it’s too late

Too late for you to say

Because I’m faking my own suicide

Because I know you love me

You just haven’t realized

I’m faking my own suicide

To hold a double funeral

Because a part of you will die

Along with me

I’ll write you a letter that you’ll keep

Reminding you your love for me

Was more than six feet deep

You say aloud that you would have been my wife

And right about that time

Is when I come back to life

And let you know

That all along I was faking my own suicide

Because I know you loved me

You just never realized

I was faking my own suicide

I’ll walk in that room

See your eyes open so wide

Because you know

You will never leave my side

Until the day that I die for the first time

And we’ll laugh

Yeah we’ll laugh and we will cry

So overjoyed with our love that’s so alive

Our love is so alive

Credit: The song is called "Faking My Own Suicide" by Relient K, and I do not own it. I included it at the end of my story because it directly relates. I own the story and I also own Caroline & Rory. I may be using these characters for other stories coming up. I hope you at least liked it a little. Let me know if the tenses were alright. I double checked and I'm pretty sure I only used past tense when Rory was talking about things that already happened anyway. Review!!!