Production notes: everything will be shot in black and white unless otherwise noted

black screen

Voiceover (V): People can be funny in that way where they think they understand everything.

Feet touch carpet

V: It's almost as if they tell themselves enough times, that they really might start to get it without actually experiencing it.

Feet walk out of the shot. A hand drags on the bedspread until it leaves the frame.

Girl, looking in a mirror, putting on mascara. Shots move from her face reflecting in the mirror as she pulls her hair up into a ponytail, to a side shot of her actual face as she leans in to put on the makeup to her makeup resting on the counter. If possible, the shot of the countertop should be in color, but the mascara bottle is black and white.

V: So when something goes wrong, people give their condolences… and then their advice. Like they're in my exact situation. Which also implies they don't think I'm handling the situation in the perfect way like they would. Maybe it's because I'm younger. Maybe they think because I'm only 16, I don't completely get death. Then I stop and think… who really does get death?

The makeup is scooped up off the counter, and the light in the bathroom is turned off. Another shot from inside the bathroom is shown, once again in black and white, of light flooding in through a crack in the door.

black screen

V: No one stops to realize that death is the only think I know.

Stills of Arlington, flag covered coffin, a man in dress blues, military etc.

V: It's all my parents ever knew.

The girl, sitting on her floor, up against the board of her bed, legs slightly bent. There is a picture frame in her hand, but the camera doesn't know what he picture is of.

V: Death, very much so, is my life.

She puts her head up against the bed and closes her eyes. You can tell she is taking deep breaths, presumably not to cry.

V: And I feel like I've always been running from it, running away from the one thing I know, because I'm afraid one day it will come up to me and take me too. . And yes, I have thought once or twice that that might not actually be such a bad thing. I've been running away from this dark cloud over my head 24/7, and sometimes I wish it would just rain. And maybe it could wash away all of this.

She opens her eyes again, looks at the picture briefly, but put it down beside her, almost like she can't bear to look at it any more. Folding up her legs and putting her chin on her knees, she looks out ahead of her, deep in thought.

V: I've never missed two people so incredibly much. It's like when I buried both of them, I buried an extra un-beating heart along with them. And I know I'm not the only person to lose someone, but everyone grieves differently. Everybody hurts. But nobody grieves like me, nobody hurts like me.

She pulls down a bag and fumbles through it, finding her keys eventually and tossing the bag aside, picking up the picture frame again and putting it on the dresser. A full color shot shows who was actually in the picture frame, two pictures actually of presumably her mother and father. The shots go back to black and white as the camera probes through the room. There is a box in the corner labeled mom and dad's stuff.

V: I just want them back. To hold me and tell me that it really is okay, and then maybe I'll believe it, because I certainly don't believe it when it comes from other people. People telling me that it happens, death is a part of life. It's as black and white as that. Life is black and white.

She closes the door to her bedroom and leans up against it, looking down and then moving out of the shot.

V: And if that's true, why am I seeing things in shades of gray?

Shot as she moves down another hallway, into a fairly empty room by the front door. She looks around for a second before moving to unlock the front door.

V: And if other people see in black and white, and I see in grayscale, who actually sees the color? Really?

She opens the door, and walks out without looking back.

Production Note: If it's raining out, work with it, and cut out the sun is raining down on me line. Show her as she moves along actually taking her hood down, and embracing the fact that it's finally raining down on her. It's actually almost preferable if it's raining, but if not, it works just the same.

She walks down the sidewalk, hood up, as she pulls an iPod from her pocket and puts it in her ears. The beginning chord of the song begins to play.

V: And if God is really real, and good and all, how can he make such bad things happen? How can he let pain keep prevailing? Nobody should have to learn how to deal with unimaginable pain. It shouldn't be part of someone's life. No one should be pushed to the point where they feel like they need to leave this life just to feel peaceful again. And no one should have to realize that without their presence on the earth, there will be millions of people who don't even notice. No one should have to realize that if they died, it wouldn't really matter to most people. The world, in all its pain, would keep on spinning without me if I was ever to leave it.

She starts to walk off of the sidewalk and by a pond OR a playground. Either one works. She either sits down in the grass by the pond, or sits down on a swing in the park.

V: But somewhere in that storm, you see the sun. And it's suddenly a different kind of rain. It's a new kind of hope. It's a new kind of hurt. It's a kind of hurt where it will always be there, but it's that reminder that life is so fragile that the only way you can live it is to live it to the fullest. To cherish every moment and know that when it's over, you wont regret it. You were a part of something so great. And that by itself puts you in a crowd of people, to the point where you should never have to feel alone again.

She takes her hood off, looking ahead of her and starts to smile a little bit. She takes down her ponytail and a) leans back if she's by the pond or b) begins to swing is she's in the park.

V: Memories fade, people fade, but somewhere inside of me I will always feel. And whether its good or bad, the ability to feel keeps us all human. It keeps us all in tact and somehow hurt keeps us all grounded. Hurt keeps us all real. It's kind of funny how pain keeps the world colorful.

She closes her eyes.

V: The world is a confusing place, and no matter how hard people try to get it, they never will. And you know what? I think I'm okay with that. I think… I think I'm okay.