September, 2012
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Well, I turned seventeen this month. It is the day Gregory died… I should not be so sad, he would not like to know that I was having trouble letting go -- but it is not everyday that you are the reason your boyfriend dies, right?
At least, I blame myself. I have been told I should not -- it was a rainy night and there was a lot of fog, I should have been careful… I know it is my fault -- I accept that. I mean, he is gone.
And I am here.
I should not be here, but I am… I want to know why I am still here. Is it right for me to be here?
I wish I could forget. I wish I could forget the crash, the rain pelting the roof, the way the air smelled that night -- so full of ash and smoke… I choked, I could not breathe -- but I was doing better than he was.
He was just laying there. Quiet. Dead. His skin was warm, though. Until help came, I clung to him -- I clung to him and I cried. By the time the flashing lights of the ambulances had made it, I was blue in the face.
Their voices were bizarre sounding -- I was told I was in and out of consciousness. Apparently I was out for days, because when I woke up, mama and Salia were by my bed -- dad was in the hallway on the phone.
I don’t know, I think back on that day and I remember the scar -- or rather, multiple scars. Even though some of them were not physical, they have not gone away. And the ones I caused myself, those are still here as well.
I almost miss the psych-ward. It was safe, at least. I could not hurt myself while I was there. I liked the safeness. I really wish mother had not pulled me out of the ward when they told her I was ‘better’. Because being ‘better’ is not really being okay.
Well, that is all I have to say tonight -- goodbye.