metanoia

Chapter One

The sun rose as she walked across the sea of grass. The weeds were half her height, and she looked so petite as she strode towards me. Her dress swished around her pale legs dotted with freckles, like dots on a ladybug's wings. Her thigh-highs left only a strip of skin to be seen between the skirt and her socks, but it was provocative enough for me.

Her eyes glittered like the lake does on warm summer evenings, and her hair flowed down her back. It was shiny and soft; so soft. I loved her. She was so perfect.

Until I really got to know her.

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I'm Michael, and I'm 17. I don't play sports and shit, like every other boy does, I do schoolwork. I'm not interesting, hot, or cute. I'm just here. But I'm in love with the most perfect girl, Evie. Her real name was Evangeline, and that means "messenger of good news", which I think is beautiful. She was really short, like 4" 10', which made it easier for me to pick her up. She had pretty pink lips I loved to kiss, and she loved to read. She liked it when I came over to her house to drink hot chocolate and watch movies with her. Her favorite movie was Dead Poets Society, so I've seen that one a million times. She liked Pretty in Pink and The Breakfast Club too, so I've seen those a lot.

She was the most perfect girl. She smiled at everyone she met on the streets. She even dropped pennies as she walked, because she said it "brought others luck". She was the most selfless person I've ever met. She didn't know she was beautiful, but she was. People loved her for that- and her personality, of course. Little kids adored her, and she used to go out and push them on the swings at the park. She made sand castles with them too, on the beach. She did volunteer work at an animal shelter for a while, and then a nursing home for old people, and she loved that. She just enjoyed helping people. She wanted to become a vet, and she had a bright future ahead of her. She could've brightened up anyone's day, no matter what.

Sorry, I'm rambling. I guess I should get to the point of our story. Why am I telling it, you ask? Well, my Evie's was one of the lives taken far too early by depression. I'm telling her story in hopes that people will learn the signs and realize that it's never wrong to ask for help. Take it from me. If you kill yourself, you're passing on the sadness. Evie left only broken hearts and tears in her wake. She abandoned the sadness and passed it on to her family and me. Don't put that same burden on your family. Please.

Well, here we go. Here's our story.