Dear Lizzie,
I stole my brother's pencil sharpener today and used a screwdriver to get the blade out. Then I sat on the floor in my bathroom with the blade hovering over my wrist, trying to get myself to push down. Part of me didn't want to do it, because I don't want to be like you, Lizzie, not like that. But part of me did, really did, and in the end, that was the side that won.
YOU ARE READING
Dear Lizzie
Short StoryDear Lizzie, Everyone says you’re gone. But you can’t be—you’re Lizzie. You just can’t. But you really are, aren’t you? // letters written by a girl who just wants her best friend back
