Closure

Prologue

July 27, 2013 (Saturday)

Dear Crappy Journal-That-Quinn-Gave-Me,

   I don't really know what's the point of this journal. He wouldn't read this book anyway, but Quinn said I have to or I have to drink some pills. He's dead. He died. I watched him die in a heartbeat. I don't really get the point of writing in this notebook. I don't really even know why my mom signed me in a therapy. It has been exactly 3 months, 12 weeks, 91 days, ago since the doctor officially said he's dead. I know I counted everything except for the happy memories, positivity and everything good or great I have, everything that includes being happy.

   Music is the reason why all of this happened, we were listening to Miley Cyrus song 'Wrecking Ball' going to our prom, until some car wrecked us, luckily I survived with just some few scars and bruises physically, and a part of my heart died because of that asshole of a drunk driver. I despise him a little—no scratch that, a lot. Music is really the reason why, if that song hadn't come up on the radio he wouldn't jam to his favourite, he could see the car clearly then, he would have swerved and he would have be in wrong road and possibly crash in a tree and survive with a broken hand and a few scars and bruises. Call me pathetic, I don't care. Just know what you have and when you had known it then cherish them, figure it out, work hard to figure whom you trust and love, it takes time. "We never realize what we have until we lose that thing or person" that's what always happened I never knew that it is his time, if I would have known I would have said 'I Love You' to him in every chance that I have, I didn't knew it that time I just say I Love You every time I have the guts to which is once a week. I could have said goodbye. It's just too late. Maybe in afterlife (in heaven, hell, even in purgatory or whatever they call it), but I doubt that even happens I mean, 'What if after we died, when we're in the middle of the living and the dead we all forget all of it—our lives, wishes, memories, the fun, and even the people you love?'. Nobody living in this world knows, some are scientific, and some are religious answers. Whatever that is, I myself don't know the answer.

I'm just doing the assignment Quinn gave me you know? Being a good patient.

That's it. I'm done. Don't expect me to write again in this book.