Short Stories/Orginal

Prequel to Sucide Ghosts

I wonder if you remember that night. What was it...like, 1 Am? We were just bickering, and picking at bullshit till our heads began to ache from the rambling. I told you something, something I regret a lot. Too much in a way, but nonetheless I said it. I'd start, "I had the weirdest dream last night,"
"About?" You'd question. Then I spilled, like that nervous type of spill. You're hands shiver, you're scared, and the environment reacts around that fear. A drink hits across the floor, then regret washed over the puddle you left. That girl you always talk about, I killed her in the dream. You don't know the rest though, you just know I sounded like a psychopath. I'll tell you, in this note. You'll know.

I stabbed her in the back recklessly, and relentlessly. I felt empty, I felt like I was committing this heinous crime out of a command. I know, it sounds disgusting and awful, but my mind wanted for me to see this somehow. My eyes focused to a more complete sight. It wasn't who I thought she was, it was me. My dumb resting face with this jolly smile poking at the goosebumps surfacing. I don't know how to describe my face to you, it was like looking at a shot deer. You felt this empathy for its rotting carcass. This beautiful creature has been killed by one of your own, and you were only a witness. Ya know, I never found myself beautiful, but when I saw her she looked so very broken. Is that how you look at me? A window in a crystal white church with colorful glass, yet it's cracked beyond return. Now, I finally have figured out what it meant, which is why I did this. You're killing me, but I'm killing myself physically. I can't deal with you, this isn't your fault so don't think it was. I love you, I just can't comprehend it. That is why I'm now dead. One more time, I love you more than anything. I'll be thinking of you even from my grave. I'll be there forever, maybe you can see me one day, but for now, this is goodbye.

He cried as he read it, it was so meaningless. There was so many questions as to why, but it least he had some form of her. One form, a piece of paper. Who was he kidding, what would this satisfy?

A/N I hate this, but I'm gonna upload it. I know my writing is the basic edgy teen crap but it's all I have. Writing has been with me for a while. When my voice fails me, my words don't. It's like communicating through an idea, no this never happened and I'm not this morbid irl. Suicide ghosts was about trying to tend to myself yet I can only get a grasp before I fade. This was about that part of me that feels confused and hopeless over feeling feelings. I'm not depressed, I don't wanna die, but this is how strong my emotions can be. Emotions can be just as strong as actions, if you know what I mean. Okay, if you read up to here thank you because it feels nice knowing that. Like I said, if you have any criticism please share. I want to improve. Thank you again, and thank you for 100 reads. Have a nice day (: