She lies awake in her small bed regretting every moment she didn't cherish while you were in her life. You were her drug, you kept her sane. You were her chamber of secrets. Being honest is part of her morals so she can admit it. She expected you to leave eventually because everyone knew you could obviously do better. She was two entire classes below you.
But she cared. Although, she's no longer in touch with you, you both know she cared. She would give her life to help you. She would take a bullet for you. If you could only see the way she loved you, then maybe you would understand that she can no longer live without you.
The pain you left her with may be helacious, but there is a lesson to be learned in this situation. Everyone leaves and there's no way to prevent this. Soon enough sorrow will seize even the brightests of minds. Making a vacant cast of where the happiness of the soul once dwelled. Sorrow runs purified poision through your system, slowly watching your mind perish in a battle against your body. Eventually, you lose all control and become subdued by pain. Pain is your best friend and you need it to feel alive. Isolation is the best way to void conferences with others. Isolation is sorrows neighbor. Always visiting afterwards.
Back to the topic; she would do anything to get you back. Do you recall the time she tried to leave you? Some say if they threaten to leave they've already left. Little do you know is, the only reason for her wanting to leave was because she was leaving the earth. Perhaps, she figured that if you were no longed an accessory to her life then you would not be pained by her death. If she was thinking this then, why hasn't she did it now? The thought runs through your head.
The unknown is your greatest enemy now. Seven failed attempts. Seven. She's already dead on the inside, so what's the point in killing the outside? Slowly starving her insides, avoiding affection at every moment. Cheek bones narrowing in, schizophrenia developing, images that are just a figment of her imagination coming into her reality. Depending on substances to help her day by day. If you were to ask me, I'd say she's as dead as ever. Losing track of day and night, no longer being able to get rest.
She used to listen to indie rock and reassure you that everything would turn out the way it's suppose to. She cannot even do this for herself anymore. Struggling to keep the will power from paining the walls with her brains. Her skin has became pale, and her eyes have lost the hint of green that you found oh so beautiful. All her clothing became the image of darkness. Her thoughts revolved around death.
Death was the greatest with she had wished for. She had seen death and laughed in it's face. Begging for it to trace it's skeletal fingers across her young skin. The adrenaline making her feel like a living being.
The feeling of a high while possibly getting her wish come true.
