Wilma, how do you smile everyday. How so you live life without piercing pain? Do you not hear them? The pessimists in your head? I hear them, everyday. Criticizing me, everything that I am. I know I'm crazy, but I'm afraid if I tell anyone I will be cast off, forgotten. And that scares me. It scares me more than the fact that I am crazy. Maybe that is even more proof that I have no sanity left. Even now I hear them, yelling, screaming, whining at me to do it now. But I can't, I need to say goodbye.
I take a deep breath and shake my head. I can't handle this, but I need to read the rest. My brother's perfect penmanship makes me mad. He pus on this whole facade, just so he could say goodbye? I wish I knew, I would have spent every moment with him, savoring them. I open the next note, and brace myself.
YOU ARE READING
The Funeral
Teen FictionMy brother committed suicide. At his funeral I didn't cry, I even left early. I did this because my brother already had a funeral. And he was there for it, and he was alive. He was holding my hand. We buried an empty shoe box, it symbolized his...
