The Desired Reunion

The First Goodbye And Last Hello.

My eyes snapped open as I sat up quickly. In exactly two days I'll be starting school again for my senior year. Joy. The pile of blankets I was sleeping under, made it slightly difficult for me to get off the bed, but I think it has something to do with the increase in gravity whenever I try to leave the bed.

As I headed to the bathroom to do my usual routine, the handwriting of my mum on the bathroom door greeted me.

"Either write something worth reading, or do something worth writing."

I used to take that advice as my motto. But, instead of encouraging me to accomplish great stuff, it inspired me to attempt suicide. This is what I'm going to do tomorrow night. If I talked about it with anyone, they would never get me, as they find it a pathetic reason to end my life and they always tell me to wait to grow up and be something. I know I won't, that's why I'd rather end it myself.

Whilst doing my usual routine, I wondered how I ended up like this. Friendless, girlfriendless, fatherless, and without a brain anymore. The main reason why I ended up like that was because of Alcohol. Yes, I've never drank it before-a little weird for a teenage guy-but I can sure talk about it. I strongly believe that somewhere between the particles of this dark coloured liquid, pills installed to provide you with fearlessness, courage and honesty. Sure, alcohol may damage your liver and such, but at least it makes you forget about your life problems for a while. Still, it was the reason why I ended up fatherless.

The night of his death came in small, but quick flashbacks that my brain refuses to forget. According to the officer that called my mum and me, he was hit by a drunken teenager. My dad used to own a small coffee shop that used to be entirely full every single day. Whenever mum wasn't writing in her office, she would be working with him. It was a win-win situation; she would have fun serving customers and get a hint about people's lives which inspires her into writing if she has a writer's block.

She loved him with all her heart-my dad, I mean-and I believe a part of her will always do. She stopped writing the moment he died and instead, locked her self up with a stack of books, that whenever she finished reading them, she would read more and more until she finally healed. I tried using that method of reading my sorrows away, it never worked. I tried everything to forget about him, but almost everything held a piece of him.

I left the house with a note saying that I'll be back soon. I took the bus to my ex-girlfriend's house, about a fifteen minute drive from where I live. In no time, I was knocking on her door in some old, light blue shirt and black pants that matched my hair. My hazel eyes were admiring the beauty of her garden, which her mum kept with every kind of flower she could reach to. Might as well remember the beauty of nature before I float away.

At the sound of the door being opened, I turned around to gaze at my ex. She was the most beautiful person I've ever met. She was my best friend before my girlfriend. She's nice, caring, sweet and lovely. These were the reasons why I love her, and why I left her. She surely doesn't deserve a messed up guy who can't even get over his father's death. She deserved someone who matched her sweetness with one of his own. I know I hurt her by pushing her away and breaking up with her without a reason, but that's why I'm here. To explain why I can't damage her innocent self.

I realized that I spent ages staring at her, while she did the same. I spoke in strong voice while dreading coming here again, "May I come in?"

She stared at me sadly for a couple of seconds more unblinking, before she muttered a 'yes'.

I entered the house following her up to her room, and closed the door behind me, but remained glued to its back. She sat gently on the bed patting a space next to her. I moved to where she was sitting and sat close enough so she could hear if I whispered.