February 27, 1972 3:03 a.m.
I laid in my hospital bed, staring at my diary. I trade my hand over the cover, brushing across the sparkly pen sketches. My name is one there too, in a foam letters. Esther May Kennedy. I think about going back to ignoring the world and not listening. Nothing about living appeals to me. Raymond obviously forgot me, so there is really no reason to go on. My brother is dead, so I have no goal to reach. I have nothing left to live for. I might as well give up.
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Nothing Left
Teen FictionBlank. Empty. That's how I feel. No thoughts come to my head. Faint memories disappear, I know nothing anymore. Piano notes fade away forever, not strong enough to bring me back. No one is here, except fading footsteps. I don't move anywhere. I'm st...
