Ten Letters

Theatre Class

She could have gotten help, she could have talked to someone, talked to me. Mr. Jones came into our class first, said that by her mother's request we be the first to know. The girl that sat in the back corner, the girl that talked to me everyday, who smiled, who got fired up about the little things, who spoke pure poetry, was gone. Just like that. She killed herself.

I now realize why this beautiful ray of sunshine didn't reach out to any of us. Because she actually did, she gave this wonderful performances that, I now know, were a gateway into her mind. Her last one was flawless, she had to portray this beautiful mess of depression and anxiety. I know, I know, it sounds like I am romanticizing all of these horrible dark things, and I guess I am, but it's almost impossible to not romanticize the most beautiful tragedy that ever crossed my path.

One time, we were talking about music and she started to talk about her favorite band and in that moment, she was explaining this band as if she knew them closely. She talked to passionately about this group, you could see her eyes light up when she talked about something that she loved so deeply. In that moment, I finally knew what true love felt like. It was a feeling of warmth, how you could just think about this one thing that you loved so deeply and it would instantly make you happy. I wanted that for her, I wanted her to feel that warmth. I realize now that, not because she died, I wanted to be the one to give her that warmth.

She had this magnetic pull about her, when I was around her she radiated this energy that made me feel happy, she made me smile. Her best friend approached me at her funeral, "Allie, really liked you. I think you should know that," she turned around, wiping her eyes and walked off. Everything now made sense. She beamed every time I talked to her, and when I would catch her without a smile on her face, I would make that change. It was my mission.

Sometimes I wonder if I was really breaking her down, when I would talk to her, she would blurt out these random sentences then fear would strike in her eyes, and she would often walk off. She was so critical of herself that she couldn't even talk to me. And I only made it worse. It is an awful thing to feel for someone so much without them knowing until it is too late.

The last day I saw her, I knew something bad was going to happen, I had that gut feeling. She didn't have that natural spark about her, she walked into the cafeteria like she always did, with her head down and music floating through one earbud. On her way to the back table she would often look up at me and shoot me one of those winning smiles. Not this time. That day she had on a pair of studio headphones and her eyes were concentrated on her boots. I reached my hand out to wave her over, if she did see, she ignored it. My best friend was trying to explain something to me, but I made the decision to wave him off. I stood up and walked to the table where she sat alone, her eyes now focused on the table.

I sat down next to her and she didn't budge, so I tapped her on the shoulder and she looked up at me. Her eyes were cold, no longer filled with the warmth that made the sun jealous. She slid her headphones off and they were playing so loud that I could hear every word from the song that was playing. The song was on loop, playing over and over again.

"Allie, I have a joke I want to try out on you," something you need to know about this girl was her bad jokes. She was always the first to laugh and the first to tell these jokes, often puns, and when you told her a really good one, she would laugh so hard that she would lose her breath and you could see tears welling up in her eyes. It was one of the most beautiful sights when that happened. She lifted one of the corners of her mouth up, as if to tell me to go on.

"What do you call children of the corn's father?" I asked hoping she would like this joke, since I included a horror film in there. She loved horror. She looked at me and her smile widened, a more genuine smile this time. "Pop-corn!" I shouted waiting for her reaction. She just let out a giggle that I thought was satisfactory. But then something happened, after that giggle, her eyes just filled with this painful look and she looked like she was going to cry. I stood up and motioned for her to do the same. She did, and I pulled her into a hug, it was kind of awkward at first, but then I felt her loosen up and when I went to pat her back, I could feel her breathing and how shaky she was, how uncertain she was, her chest heaved once against me. She pulled away and said thank you, then the bell rang.