in memory of susanna
we travelled 1,085 miles to see your dead body, which seems a little pointless, because we never saw you alive, not once. we talked on the phone a few times, but that was all. you seemed nice, and you don't deserve this.
you might not know me. you might not know my face. i'm emma, fifteen, your cousin. your mother's sister's daughter. our mothers stopped talking right after i was born, when your mother married your father within three months of knowing each other. six months later, you were born.
although you probably know that. but i'm not sure. your mother [and father] didn't seem to want to talk about the past and the bad things. so it makes sense they wouldn't want to talk about the bad things in the past.
i'm sorry i never knew you, but you seemed nice. you looked so perfect in the open casket at your funeral.
but the dead are always perfect, aren't they? with no troubles or worries or mutterings in the back of their mind. i wish i was perfect. maybe you did too.
YOU ARE READING
in memory of
Dla nastolatkówlower 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
