in memory of susanna
i am a cynical sort of person who believes nothing and no-one, which is why this entry shall be anonymous. i am almost positive someone will read this before they burn all of these thoughts and memories, and i do not wish to share this note. with anyone, except myself.
and perhaps susanna, if i believed in that sort of thing.
the whole town has been quiet since your death. it has been sixteen days, and everyone thinks about you but no-one talks about you. it is like your name is a curse and a gift. your mother, brother and sister haven't been out the house yet; only for your funeral, which was ten days after you took your life.
i know that some people think it's selfish, what you've done. i don't believe it is.
you're in a better place, susie. [i know that what was you wanted to be called, even if no-one else does.]
i know about your dad. and i'm sorry. very, very sorry.
YOU ARE READING
in memory of
Подростковая литератураlower case intended. a piece of fiction. the people i dedicate chapters to aren't necessarily people i talk to. but they are people who inspired my stories [although they may not know it.] Cᴏᴘʏʀɪɢʜᴛ © 2013 - InkButterfly