"The pleasure of remembering had been taken from me, because there was no longer anyone to remember with. It felt like losing your co-rememberer meant losing the memory itself, as if the things we'd done were less real and important than they had been hours before."
- John Green
Grief is a funny thing, people handle it differently. The way I handled it got me put inside of a psychiatric ward for the next thirty days. My parents began to worry about me when I stopped eating and burn marks began appearing throughout skin.
My doctor told me that writing tends to help her patients grieve. I tried telling her I'm not much of a writer, but she insisted. She told me we could burn the writing the day I get released. If I am going to write this story down it will not be burned, it will be kept and forever remembered by those who were involved and hopefully those who didn't know Vanessa.
Vanessa was one of my best friends, she possessed this natural beauty to her. She was just a unique person. Vanessa wasn't the most out going person, but once you became friends with her she could talk your ear off. She had long, curly, bright auburn hair. Her cheek bones sat high on her face and looked almost fake. Her cheek bones then took you to her natural black eyes. She stood 5'2", making her the shortest one in our group.
She wasn't a very skinny person, she had some meat on her, she wore a size 6; we often shared our clothes. She wouldn't hurt a fly, but she did have a reputation with guys which soon lead to her down fall.
It was my phone, it was my phone that made the call. It's my fault she's gone. It's my fault she's no longer living. It was just a simple game, a simple game that was taken too far.
