Author: Wylloa PM
To Wallow in the Past When the Past trys to be relived. She tried to leave, but Fate intervened. Now my heart is an open book for you to read. Life is not worth living without being able to call all the different kinds of love your own.Rated: Fiction T - English - Angst/Drama - Words: 455 - Published: 02-27-08 - Status: Complete - id: 2481257
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
I can't believe she tried to leave us. I don't know if I'd be able to lose another friend. She came so close. Life is so fragile. Decisions are ultimate. Futile hopes can bloom but not grow – they will wither in the face of fate. Only fortune saved her… saved us from wilting in her demise. Pure, raw, rare luck. I'm afraid to leave her alone… she might lose control again. She might feel the call of the razor this time, instead of the bottle of sleep. How could she be so final? How could she not think of all the friends who she was leaving behind? And now I have my memories flashing back to years ago, when my precious domino's fell in a line… Season, Abby, Sarah… Richard, Poptart, Artie… Jess… Emerson… All of them, gone. And now her. Not her. She is like my little sister, my clone, my shoulder to cry on and the one who will give me a razor blade if I need one, all the while asking me not to use it. She knows. Everything. She feels. What I feel. She lives. What I lived. She is who I was. She deserves better. I don't know how she survived the six days in the quiet room. Six days of guilt and shame, remorse and blame. I know. I've been there. She is stronger coming out of that room, running towards me in tears. She is strong.
But is she strong enough?
Can she fight her impulses, only slipping once or twice… or three times, as I have? Can she deny her vices the pleasure of her company, like I have tried to? I am not recovered. How can I expect her to be? Am I a hypocrite, begging her to live while I pick my scabs and hide my protruding bones in shame? Do I have any right to beg my precious flower to flourish and live when I cannot follow my own advice?
No, I am not a lesbian. Yet still I love her, as I love all of my friends. True friends are too rare to not love. True friends will hold you while you cry, bandage your wounds, both inside and out. Take your hand away from the bottle of sweet consoling death. True friends are irreplaceable. She is irreplaceable.
She Must Not Die.
Romantic love is nothing compared to the bond you form with a true friend. Her lover and mine cannot stop us. Our love for them is pure, has kept us alive on many occasions, but we may find that we love death above them. Therefore, She Must Not Die.
Else…I might follow her.