Disclaimer: I do not own Degrassi
Nothing. That one word, one meaning, described everything now. It described how she felt, what life meant to her, what she had. All of it was nothing. She thought of this as she looked at the small object in her hands. It is funny how the sight of one everyday object, an object so worn out from love it acquired, could suddenly feel so foreign. It was funny how an object she previously loved dearly, could bring to her dark emotions.
A notebook. It all started with the stupid, important notebook. When she received that very notebook for her birthday, she thought her best friend was crazy. "A notebook? You, my best friend of 17 years, decided to give me, for my birthday, a notebook?" She remembered saying. He replied saying that the notebook was there for whatever. He bought it thinking the notebook could be a secret world for the two best friends. They could fill it with quotes, stories, pictures, secrets, anything. Anything they wanted to create. Little did she know, however; he also has other motives. He bought the notebook trying to discreetly encourage her to write. She always had the best stories. Stories she randomly made up in her head. A gift he wanted her to share with the world. Whenever he brought up the idea of writing, she would brush it off, and change the subject. Or some strange reason, she was afraid of writing.
Finally, though, he won; she started to write. Writing became her thing. The only place she could go for freedom, her own haven. She became addicted to writing, which did nothing for his ego.
Writing was her rock. The only stable thing in her life, now betrayed her. After the incident, she could not write. It wasn't that she didn't have anything to write about. No, she had a lot to write about. But she couldn't do it. This frustrated her to no end. She needed this! But she was too numb. Numbness caused by pain.
She thought looking through the notebook would help her somehow. As if this would act as some soft of closure. But as the worn out notebook sat in her lap, her heart ached as she let the memories crash over her.
Tears she was all too familiar with flooded her eyes. She let them fall, too drained to care anymore. The tears soon turned to sobbing. She cried for what felt like a lifetime. She cried with each memory she relived. The memories of hard times they got through because of the other. She cried thinking of each blissful moment the shared together.
Going through the notebook, she tried to come up with answers. But all she came up with were more questions. Why? Why would he do this? Why couldn't he talk to her. She was his best friend! The one person he could trust. The person who knew everything about him. But that was a lie. She didn't know him all that well, apparently. This horrible action only proving so. Guilt washed through her body. She could have done something. She should have seen something different in him. But she didn't, she brushed off any gut feelings. She was the cause of this. She was supposed to be the person that got him away from dark feelings, and yet, his absence proves that she failed.
Why did he feel that everything would be okay if he took his own life? What was so horrible in his life that made him think dark things?
He was going to be so successful. He was so smart, and kind. The world would have benefited from a person like him. He had so much to give.
He also had a future with her. They would talk of getting married. She wanted to marry him, her best friend. They were going to be together forever. Have healthy, beautiful babies together. Love each other forever. Be there for each other, like the already have for so many years. They would grow old together.
He was her everything. He was gone. And now, she had nothing. She was nothing.