Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight or Facebook or anything created in the real world that is mentioned in this chapter and/or any other chapter in this story.

Friday, July 9, 2010

Dear Edward,

Flashback:

Early November, 2009. We were Facebook chatting, as usual. I don't know how this came up in the topic of conversation and I'm not going to pretend. That's why I don't use direct quotes, Edward. I don't want to say anything that I'm not sure actually happened or was said. That would be unfair.

Anyway, I got you to spit out a secret of yours that you had apparently been hiding from me for a week. I was quite impressed that you were able to do that, actually. You would tell me everything, Edward, and I mean everything. And even if you didn't want to tell me, it was only a matter of minutes of a little coaxing before you spilled the beans. It was so easy. Now, I can't get you to even say hi to me. My, how times can change.

But I digress yet again. Remember what you did that you didn't want me to know? You tried a cigarette. Holy fucking shit. You tried a cigarette. I couldn't believe it. You, Edward, my friend, smoked a cigarette. I remember you warning me that I would get so angry at you. But I didn't. I was hurt more than anything. Why? Because you promised. You promised me on that last day before I left for school that you would never do that shit. I made you promise because you were telling me how all your friends were doing stupid shit like that. And don't get me wrong, I know you know what's right and wrong, good and bad, but I just had this feeling way back in August. So I made you promise me that you wouldn't give in to peer pressure and do stupid shit like that.

But you did. And I felt so hurt. Because you broke your promise.

Then you started to explain what really happened. You told me how you had said "No" so many times before that this time you just did it. But then you know what you told me what happened next? Do you remember? Honestly, I think now you would deny ever having such thoughts in your mind.

You told me that you took one drag and you thought of me. No, not your mom or dad or anyone else. You thought of me, your little friend who was hundreds of miles away at college, whom you haven't seen in almost three months. Just the thought of me was enough for you to throw the cigarette on the ground and run. I was so touched that I almost forgot about the disappointment, but not quite. And believe me, I let you know how you made me feel about it all (except anything about the pleasure of being in your thoughts, that is) and I made sure you felt guilty. I did it so you would never smoke again, but though you did feel sorry because I gave you grief, that was not the reason you really vowed to never pick up any kind of smoking device again.

Ah, now I remember how this came up and how I got you to confess to this cigarette ordeal. You were worried that you had cancer in your mouth. You said you had a white sore on the inside of your cheek that appeared right after you tried the cigarette and wouldn't go away. I have to admit, I was a tad self-satisfied that karma had come to get you. No, I never thought it was cancer, but I humored you by listening every time you mentioned it, which was multiple times a day till practically Thanksgiving break. I just thought it was a burn mark or something, though you probably would have felt it burning your skin if it was. Okay, so maybe the true cause of this sore that you had (have? I don't even know if you still have it. You did as of March) is still unknown, but I didn't think it was cancerous. Sixteen year old guys don't get cancer. Well, some do, but not the ones in my life. It's not allowed.

But I just listened and tried to comfort you while you fretted about the length of your life. You were so regretful of trying that cigarette because you were convinced that it did something bad to you. At times you would act like you were on your deathbed and practically giving me your will. Do you remember what you told me? I do. You said that your upright piano went to Jessica Stanley (you can imagine how pleased I was with that after my explanation from a few days ago) and your grand piano went to me. Would you give them to me now, Edward? God forbid that you died? I don't think so.

One day—maybe it was more than one occurrence, I don't remember—you asked me what I would do if you really did have cancer and were going to die. I really hope you remembered this response, Edward, because I was deathly serious. I told you that I would finish out the semester at State and get into a community college back home so I could spend time with you. I knew that my parents would have never let me do that, but if I had the choice, I would have done it. I told you that you weren't allowed to have cancer and die because you were my best friend and I didn't know what I would do if I lost you. And if you would die before then, I would have taken time off from school to be with you. I really would have, Edward. I really would have done everything I told you.

But I lost you anyway. Not from cancer, but from something else. Why did I lose you, Edward? That's all I really want to know. Why do you not want to be friends? What did I do?

Back to my point, because every flashback has a tie to the present. What if I have cancer? What would you do? I'm asking you this not because I'm sick or anything, but I've been in pain somewhere that is not particularly normal for me for the past two days. I told my mom and she said to check for lumps in the shower, but maybe it's because I'm nearing that time of the month. I don't know. All I know is that it's painful and abnormal. Renee says I should go to the doctor next week if it keeps up. But what if there really is something wrong with me? What if I got terribly sick? Well, I don't think I would tell you. I mean, how awkward would it be to talk to you out of the blue and say "Oh, hi Edward. I just wanted to tell you, I was diagnosed with XYZ." No. It won't happen. I don't want your pity friendship.

Maybe my other friends would tell you, like Alice or Rose. They might, especially if they asked if I let you know and I told them. What would you do then? Would you talk to me then? I don't think you would. No, you would just keep living your life like you had never known me, never talked to me, never hugged me or held me….but I digress yet again.

Then I got to thinking, what if I died? What would you do then? Who would tell you? I'm sure Alice would. She knows how much you mean to me. She would make sure to spread the word. Would you feel sad? Would you cry? You are very emotional, but at the same time you can choose to be so emotionless, if that makes any sense. It's like you can turn it on and off like flipping a switch for a light. You've had the switch turned off since March, since that one night. But that's another story for another day.

I think you would come to my funeral, but you wouldn't stay for very long. That or you would flirt with all my choir friends. But that's okay because I would be dead and never know. I kind of hope you feel bad. I hope that you regret ignoring me and not speaking to me.

And I do hope you cry. I hope you cry like you told me you were crying when I told you my thoughts over winter break. When I told you that I didn't want to live anymore, that I had it planned out when I went back to school to take more Tylenol than what was a healthy dose and just hopefully die a nice and peaceful death. Do you remember this, Edward? You freaked out and typed back that I couldn't do that. You told me how I was your best friend and I couldn't leave you. You told me "You have changed me, woman." Yes, that is a direct quote because I remembered it word-for-word. That's what made me stop thinking about ending my life. You were the reason. But yes, if I die, I hope you feel sorry that you made my nightmares come true. Nightmares that will be explained later because they also are another story for another day.

Love?

BMS

...And this is when we really start to see the extent of Bella's insanity, in case you haven't noticed it yet. Admit it, guys, she is kind of off her rocker. That's why the writing is choppy and random, aka not my usual style. But don't hate on Bella and don't tell me that you've never felt this way before, either.