To Alana, from Louis
you always told me funerals were depressing. yours was the same.
i could say it was beautiful, but it wasn't. everyone was wearing black and i know that's what you're supposed to wear to a funeral but it just wasn't you. you were the light and everything was black.
it was the complete opposite of you and i hated it.
and so i wore a white suit with a black rose pinned on the front and i got fucking scolded.
"you're not supposed to wear white to a funeral," your mum sneered before she'd even said hello. i replied to with a flash of my middle finger, which was probably uncalled for, but so was your death. instead of arguing with me, she gave me a note.
it had my name on the front in your writing. your fucking writing. you're gone, but you're still here and everything reminds me of you and do you know how much i hate you for that?
do you know how much my heart hurts?
Delivered - 17/07/15 - 21:08 pm
YOU ARE READING
seven reasons why
Short Storywhen all you have left of someone is a breadcrumb trail as to why they ended their life, there's not much you can do not to follow it. seven letters seven reasons why.
