I remember in sixth grade, I used to love that book. I reread it this past year, but after what happened, I don't know if I can.
To me, even saying the word suicide is like a punch in the gut. It's stupid, I know. But it hurts so bad. All I think of when I hear it is the day I found out.
I don't like thinking about it.
He can't be gone.
Neither can she.
Aren't we too young for this?
I feel a little more responsible for his death than hers. I feel like at any point, I could have texted him or even called to delay it. I don't think I could've stopped hers. Hers was murder.
I think right now I need my bright place.
I need my people.
My people are my bright place.
