62 Days
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WpMetadataNoticeLast published Sat, Jun 17, 2017
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Fiction
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I have lost a friend due to suicide. We only knew each other for 62 days but that didnt mean anything. We were soul mates but the kind where we were connected as if we were the same person just different genders. Not the kind where we were madly in love but he was a part of me. Now he's gone and by writing this, it makes me look back on the good memories. The ones I will love forever.
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#15
suicidestory
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On that day, the sky was clear, the sun warm on the school grounds, and life felt light, full of possibility. My friends and I-each of us so different, yet inseparable-believed nothing could ever tear us apart. We were "The Anarchists," a group of misfits who never quite fit the mold, and that was precisely what made us strong. But gunshots shattered the peace, tearing apart the world as we knew it. In an instant, our little safe haven became a nightmare, and what remains now are only memories-memories of a friendship that even death can't truly end it.

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