Me

One friend will

I always assumed none of my friends would notice if I suddenly disappeared out of their lives. No texts, no calls, no seeing them ever again, no giving them any indication that i was leaving, nothing. I always assumed no one would miss me if I appeared dead in a dark, wet alley, where it has just rained and the addicts all came to get their drugs from their drug dealers, stabbed to death by some homeless guy with a rusty old kitchen knife just so he could look through and steal my things or if I was shot in a school shooting by an insane classmate who wasn't treated fairly by anyone and ignored by the ones who did, one of the many dead by his automatic gun he modified himself, the bullets wounds grazing the flesh of those around me while others Kay dead in their own pools of blood, the shock on their faces or if I committed suicide and was found in me and my sister's bathroom, laying lifeless in the tub, with alcohol and empty pill bottles beside me, watching the shadows pass over my face as it gets dark, the blood from the cuts on my wrists mixing with the water as it overflows through the crack underneath the door into the floor of the small space between me and my sister's rooms that leads to the living room, wetting the feet of my parents and sister as they scold me about leaving the water on not noticing the red mixing with the water. I imagined all different ways of how I could die and in none of them could I imagine anyone caring. Not my friends or family. I was a burden lifted from their shoulders. Then I met her. She was the one friend I knew would care. She's like me. She gets me. We think none of our friends would care if we does but each other. We even said this in front of our friends and none of them objected. This is just how it is. No one else would care if I died. I'm already dead inside but I'm not dead yet. Sometimes, I wish I was.