The Mystery Of Margot Ross

Prologue

Songs I recommend listening to while reading:
Favorite Place by All Time Low
Hurt by Johnny Cash
Born To Die by Lana Del Rey

Wills POV/ Prologue

Margot always used to say that everything happens for a reason, but I feel like that was just a way to compensate for her terrible luck.
    I always thought that it was weird how she'd seen the worst of the world yet still remained an optimist.

    She was like a giant beam of sunlight that could be seen through even the darkest of storm clouds, and I don't think I ever understood that part of her until now.

    My faith in mankind dwindles each day, but Margot's? Her brightness never once dimmed.

    And I guess that's why all this hurts so much.

I've never really been religious or anything, but sometimes I feel like there are these dark forces in the universe, determined to snuff out all the good parts.

Part of me feels like maybe it's my fault. That's the natural response when you've lost someone you care about right?

    You struggle and hurt, all becuase you can't escape the "what if's".

    You drive yourself insane, the possibilities swirling around inside your head trying to drag your consciousness towards the center, like a current just waiting to pull you underneath the water.

    Looking back, maybe there was things I could've done differently. Maybe if I hadn't been so caught up in myself then I could've seen how much she was hurting.

    Margot wasn't a shout in the void.

    She wasn't some average highschool girl you see cheering on the bleachers at football games on friday night.

    Margot Ross wasn't anyone's pity project, she was this blinding beam of optimism that came barreling towards me and crashed down the walls in my life.

    People come into our lives, and we never expect them to change it, and sometimes we don't want them to, but none the less the impact is always there.

    Looking back, I think, wow I really must be crazy.

    There'd be these moments where me and Margot would just be doing something normal like camping or stargazing, and I would think to myself,

    This truly is truly what infinity feels like.

    And even now that she's gone, I don't think that my perspective has changed.

    Margot Ross is the state of mind that will be with me forever.

    Call it a gift or a curse, my thoughts of her, my memories, those are mine to remember and alter as I choose.

    I tell myself all the pain and the sleepless nights will add up to something more, becuase I know that's what Margot would say, but I don't think I can ever look at the world the way she once did.

    She thought there was good in every aspect of life, somehow she managed to make everyone love her.

    I don't think I could ever be strong enough to face this worlds darkest demons, and still manage to stand tall and believe there is even a flicker of goodness left.

    There are moments when I feel like I can be more like her, and see the world in the same way, but the pain comes in flashes.

    When I tell myself not to think of her, then of course she's all that's on my mind.

    Her blonde hair and forest green eyes, the scar by her lip.

    She was always smiling, yet all the same it seemed like a rarity.

I loved feeling like part of me was intertwined with someone else, like fate was pushing us closer together until we both understood what the larger picture was.

Now she's gone, and my fingertips feel cold from where I used to hold her hand.

My chest has turned to stone, and I find myself missing when it used to turn into mush whenever she came into the room.

I can't even explain how much it hurts, becuase it just seems like some cruel joke.

Our live is just composed of different stories, moments we look back on and read like a book.
We drink up all the happiness, but nobody ever tells us to hold it close then next thing you know it's gone.

    Sometimes being left with the memory, only makes it worse.

    Every day I go to school, and I see people who never even knew her standing by her locker. People say I'm sorry for your loss, then talk about it at the lunch table that same day. Like Margot's death is just this week's latest gossip.

    I hate everyone thinks the best way to remember her is to pretend, and gloss over the bad parts of her life, and reduce her to nothing more than this perfect ideal or image.

    I'm fully aware that I'll spend every day from this point on trying to remember, trying to keep her memory alive.

    I can see the effigy of her I've created in my mind slowly fading already, but when I close my eyes I can still see her assertive gaze and shy smile.

Honestly, nobody really knew Margot, myself included.

I can tell you what I do know though, I can share the story of a girl soon nobody will care to remember in the future.

It was a blessing to know Margot, but it feels like a curse knowing that ten years from now perhaps two of her old classmates will be having a conversation, and her name will cross their minds, and the room will go quiet, but then they'll go on.

While everyone else forgets, I'll be forced to replay scenario after scenario in my mind, forever. Wondering about the possibilities doesn't even seem like half of it.

I'll always remember.

My mom says this feeling will pass, and it'll get easier, but it's a double edged sword.

Just like every moment I spent with Margot felt infinite, I know deep down so is this pain.

Is it weird part of me is having this debate inside of myself? Wondering if getting over her, means forgetting her, and that feeling would be much worse than having to live with the loss.

I can't tell you quite how lost Margot was, I can't tell you what went on inside her head, but I'd like to think I knew her better than most.

We all have that one person we'd be there for no matter what, somebody that occupies so much of our hearts that they start to mess with our head.

I think we all have our Margot Ross.

When she was here beside me, I always imagined what her future would be like. Sure, I knew for certain that I wanted Margot to be in it, but every part of her made me curious.

It tears me up inside that she isn't here to tell her own story, but I guess this will help make life good again. Perhaps things will finally start to make sense.

So let me tell you the story of a girl I once knew.

Let me tell you the story of a girl named Margot Ross.