The Note

Three

Everyday.

Everything.

Everyone.

Everyday I saw her.

Everything we shared.

Everyone that saw the love between us friends.

All gone. Down the drain. Wasted.

I'm not sure how to function without her. I don't know what to do. Most of my life I spent with her. I loved her. She was my everything. Its been seven years since I've made a decision without her help.

I don't know anything. She was my rock, and I thought I was hers. I need to find out what I didn't do. What I didn't see. What I was obliviously blind to. I need to find out her cause of pain. What killed her. What put those scars on her skin. What put those pills in her stomach. What could have ever imagining hurting her. Who could have. Why would you.

She was hurt. Hurt so bad that she couldn't take anymore. And I didn't help. I watched her wisp away. She faded, day by day. I saw it but never said anything.

Its been two days. Her funeral is tomorrow. I've been asked to speak. I don't know what to say. But I know I have to. I will go up there, and say what everyone wants to hear.

"She is in a better place" "Now she isn't hurting" "we will miss her, but we must go on with our life." Because funerals are not for the dead. We mourn with others, because we are to scared to cry by ourselves. Or maybe because we won't. We won't cry, we won't mourn. In fact, we might not even think of the dead.