Life is like a rope. So many different strands of memories, love, pain and emotion, all binding together to make a person who they are. The length of the rope depends on the life span of the person and the thickness and reliability of the rope depends on the strength of the person.
When Ryan Ross killed himself my rope was set on fire. The pain would just get worse as each day passed; and I honestly didn't know that my best friend dying would be the death of me.
When he died, everything had changed.
Part of me was gone, the part of me that Ryan had managed to fill. I didn't have the strength to plaster on the smile that Ryan so easily brought to my face. I didn't want to go to school; the place I only wanted to go to, to see Ryan's smiling face expecting me. I didn't want anyone to hug me; I just wanted to be held in Ryan's arms. I wanted to hug him and never let him go. Tell him how much he meant to me; how much I loved him.
Remembering the summers we spent in his garden, writing songs together and chasing each other around with the garden hose. Things just weren't the same without him. My last summer was empty. Even the brightest of days looked like the world was going to end, through my eyes.
"Mikalah, are you okay?" My mother asked, poking her head into my bedroom.
"No mom," I sighed,"Today in class I started crying because of Ryan..."
"You really have to stop this whole "PITY ME!" act, Mikalah! It's been months since you've last mentioned Ryan! Get over it and move the hell on!" she shouted, storming back down the hallway.
I let the tears fall onto my pillow. I didn't understand how my mother could be so cold hearted. I doubted she even stopped for a moment and thought about how it might be effecting me. I mentioned Ryan's name as little as possible, now that he was dead, saying his name seemed disrespectful ; his name sounded cold.
My friends tried cheering me up whenever I showed signs of being depressed; and even though it was useless and didn't work, I pretended that it helped and faked that smile that would only ever be a real smile for Ryan.
By the fourth month of Ryan being gone, I'd picked up my old habit of cutting my arms and hitting myself when I got angry or sad. They weren't healthy ways of expressing anger or sadness; but that didn't matter to me anymore. Nothing did.
It was the last day of summer that I had decided it would be my last.
Life is like a rope. So many different strands of memories, love, pain and emotion, all binding together to make a person who they are. The length of the rope depends on the life span of the person and the thickness and reliability of the rope depends on the strength of the person...
Between the last night of summer and the first morning of fall; I died. After many hours of looking they finally found me hanging from a tree in Ryan's garden with a note taped to my chest. The note was written in blood from the cuts on my arms.
The note said: Now we'll be together, forever and always. ?