AN: Yes, I'm still writing "Imaginary," this is just a change of pace. ^^ The references to the 7th is from my own experiences. I've had a lot of bad "7th's," so I somehow tied it in. ^^'
My New Weight Loss Plan:
1 meal a day- 400 cal max.
10-15 cans of DIET soda per day
3 bottles of water
Goal: lose 10 lbs in 2 weeks.
From: 130 lbs to 120 in 2 weeks.
Long Term: follow until under 110 lbs.
Figure out how to maintain weight at that point.
Diet alcohol on weekends only.
For every 100 cal over 400 per day, 1 hour of exercise.
I lost him three years ago. Tears and rain in the parking lot of our apartment complex was our goodbye. I never wanted to say goodbye. Neither of us did.
"Don't go," I begged. But he did. He had to.
It was the winter of my senior year. We had been together nearly two years and were inseparable. We planned our lives together and spent cold days warmed by our love. It seemed nothing could separate us. We were best friends. We were lovers. We were soulmates. Until his family decided to move.
It was December 7th when he told me. That day is the anniversary of the beginning of the end. It was a dreary Saturday, the kind that you just want to curl up and sleep on. I should have known. The 7th has always been a bad day for me. It was the day my brother died on (August 7th, 2010) and the day our (my brother and my) best friend killed himself on (October 7th, 2010). My brother's name was Sora. Riku couldn't handle his death and within two months, had spiraled into a deep, suicidal depression. I like to think that they're together now, wherever they are, but I'm getting off topic. I should have known. He came over, already sad. I had a lump in my throat as I stroked his hair, begging him to tell me what's wrong.
"We... My mom decided that... we're moving..."
"Somewhere close, right?" I choked, starting to panic. I already knew the answer, and my throat tightened when he shook his head.
"To Washington." Washington? That was at the opposite corner of the country! I started to cry.
"When?" I managed.
"She... didn't tell me until she had already gotten a job and found a home there. We're leaving in a week." I really started the waterworks at this point. It was him who tried to calm me now, holding me close and rocking me back and forth, kissing my hair. Somehow, in all my tears, I kissed him passionately, and we made love for the last time. He stayed with me all night, even though he got in trouble the next morning. He was younger than me, despite looking two years older, and his mother was strict with him.
After he left, I fell mute. I missed three weeks of school, only one of which was at home. My mom was terrified after that first week and sent me to an acute care facility when she found cigarette burns and cuts on my thighs. I stayed silent for two months, until I lost contact with him. My own mother prohibited him from speaking to me.
I screamed, pulling out my hair, shaking and wide eyed on my carpet. My door was locked and trash surrounded my seizing form on the floor. I managed to stop, simply panting and shaking as I pulled my pieces of razor from my jewelry box. Tears swelled in my eyes. I cut my fingers on the sharp edge, but I didn't care. Nothing mattered anymore. Nothing. I slashed, over and over, at my arms, my legs, all the way up and down, deeper and deeper because nothing mattered anymore. He tied me down to the Earth and now he was gone. I screamed as I ripped at my neck with the tiny piece of metal. I didn't care that I was bleeding into the carpet. I didn't hear my mom screaming. I passed out before the paramedics kicked down my door.
I went into residential. I refused to speak. The only reason I left was because I turned 18. That was four months after he left. I didn't speak to anyone. I moved to Orlando and only spoke to the people I had to- the landlord, people I didn't know personally. I started drinking. I wasn't legal, no, but I found people. I smoked more than I ever had before I was 18. I isolated and drank before noon. The only reason I left my home was to get more booze, smokes, and to pick up a new assignment at the main office. I worked from home. I'm employed by a newspaper, writing an opinion and advice column. I lost some weight. From 150 to 130 in the space of time it got to get to me now. I lost track of time. The only thing that marks time is my laptop reminders, telling me when an article was due. I only knew the day when it was the 7th.
AN: I'm sorry for killing Sora and Riku. I love them, I really do, but since I started writing fanfic that has angsty!Roxas, I kinda torture him. Don't get me wrong, Roxas is one of my favourite characters, but you have to torture them sometimes so it doesn't look like you have favouritism. xP