(a/n heyy dudes and dudets!! Umm yeah this is about a girl named Alexia, and her friend taylor. Alexia is suicidal, but taylor is cluless, since her bestfriend lexia, is so good at hiding it. when alexia kills herself, taylor finds the journal that alexia made. Here it is..
Dear jake,
Why cant you see that I am so completely in love with you? why cant you understand that when I see your arms, I want them around me? uggghh!! I wish I could talk about forever, I would never run out of words, but I know Taylor would run out of patience. So I pretend to talk about you, and I sit there in my room, just thinking about your hair, your eyes, your legs, your arms…everything about you. because everything about you makes me so completely happy! Yes, when I am with you, the rest of my world seems to fall apart, in a good way, not the way it does when….well nevermind that. Just please…hurry up and start loving me!! if you don’t…I would just DIE.
-love Alexia
I
My name is Taylor Chaves, and I murdered my best friend. Not literally, I didn’t take a knife and cut her, watch her bleed to death, No. she did that on her own. But, what I did was much, much worse, in a way, I killed her too. I didn’t see that she was suffering. I didn’t look past her cheery outer layer, and see the darkness inside of her. I was to obsessed with my own problems, I wasn’t paying attion to hers. And that neglect killed Alexia Mayers.
I have been struggling to let go of her, but its just….not possible. I don’t think I can let go of my blond haired bestie. She was my everything…how am I supposed to get by without the joy? Without the laughter? She was gone, and the hallowness inside my stomach reminded me every second of everyday. I would go, to her house, walk into her room. Sit gently on her bed, hearing it creak, and remembering the sleepovers when we were little and she used to freak me out by the creaking bed. Her room was untouched. A twilight tee shirt laying on the floor, and a florsent pink sock beside it. Her books lay strewn across the bed, waiting to be read. Everything in here seemed to ache, even the stuffed animals, there glass eyes seemingly filled with sarrow. I pressed my lips together, and held back a sob, hearing her parents downstairs. They knew I was hear. I came everyday, basically. I clenched my jaw, holding in the terror. I brushed my fingers along the edge of a nearby book, pausing when it said, ‘do not read’. Naturally I pick it up, and then drop it like I had touched something burning hot. I wasn’t supposed to touch anything in here, leave it like it was ment to be left. But I found myself picking up the book again, and opening the front page. On the opening page was a doodle of what looked like Alexia and I, sitting together, smiling. I frowned lightly to myself, and turned the page.
Dear taylor,
I wish I could tell you…but you always seem so happy, so lighthearted and free, and I am so jelous of that. I feel like that sometimes, happy I mean. But it is rare. So I keep my secrets hidden inside of me, not daring to tell a single soul. I am growing tired of bearing this weight on my own, but I trudge on through life, heaving what feels like a million tons, maybe more. I smile, because it hurts. I laugh because I wanna scream. I am going to keep going though, because if I don’t give you style tips, who will?
Compelled, I turn the next page, tears welling up in my eyes.
Dear Jake,
Today you smiled, and it was directed for me. you told me you liked my shirt, and then you tugged gently on the sleeve. Just this one moment made me so…happy? The word is a bit forigine now, jake.
The next entry is dated march 5, 2011, so a while from the previous entry.
Dear mother,
You caught me. you got me red-handed, literally. I know you don’t like me cutting myself, but it’s the only way to make myself feel whole, sorta release the pain. I wont take those pills. I just wont. Im fine mom, really. It just..hurts. I wish I wasn’t like this, I wish I wasn’t weird.
Dear myself,
Why are you so ugly? Why cant you be like the cheerleaders, with there glossy hair and perfect smiles. Why cant you be twiggy like taylor, or at least abit smart, like betty. You are worthless, and no one loves you. you put 3 sugers in your tea, and you drink it with a spoon. You are different, and no one will ever accept you as you are. Your whole life is a lie. You look in the mirror and lie, you say, ‘im pretty’. And you know your lying. Me. SO JUST STOP. Stop everything. Cutting youself is weird too…so just finish the job already. What are you waiting for?
Now I am sobbing, so I shove the diary in my backpack and run out of alexias room, running downstairs and bursting out the front door. Once I am safly in my car, I pull out the diary again, feeling the need to fill my mind with alexias last words.
Dear fate,
What do you have in store for me? I don’t want this life anymore, I honestly don’t.
Dear Taylor,
Why. Why do you have to be soo perfect? Why do all the boys go after your lovely green eyes, and porcline skin, and red hair? It isn’t fair, its just not. I don’t really care about all the other guys, not that much. Just jake, just him. And I didn’t tell you, and now your dating him. It hurts to see him kiss you, hurts to see him hold you. enough, just…enough.
Dear death
Im begging you. PLEASE. I don’t want this life anymore, and you can have it. heaven or hell I don’t really care, my life is already so completely empty, I don’t think that hell would be much difference. So are you ready? I am. The date is set, and im going to say goodnye to all my family and friends without them knowing something is up.
I shut the book abrubtly. I remembered that day, march 25, her birthday, like it was yesterday.
*******FLASHBACK**********
Taylors red curls bounced with every movment. “umm taylor?” alexia asked shyly. Taylor stopped walking and turned to face her bestfriend. “yeah?” she asked. “nothing. I just…really love you. a lot.” Alexia said, before hugging taylor hard. Taylor patted her back, shocked, and a little scared. “ha…yeah. I love you too, lex.”
***END OF FLASHBACK***
I sighed, my voice breaking a bit. I opened the book and tried again.
Dear Taylor,
This is a real letter.
I am so SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SOOOOOOOOO freakin sorry that I killed myself. I am in my bedroom, crying, and the knife I am using to kill myself in a few hours is in my other hand. It is harsh, but it is reailty. Im not afraid, im actually happy, if I can even feel that emotion anymore, to be free of this increble burden. Please don’t be mad, please don’t cry. I wanted this, truly, I did. cutting myself dosent really work anymore, doesn’t really make me feel like im alive. maybe I don’t want that feeling anymore. Maybe I want the exact opistite, to feel absoutly nothing. So..yeah. Goodbye, tay.
I shut the book abrubtly, slamming it down on my finger. I screamed to myself, and then broke down with realization that she didn’t care that she’d left me, not really. She didn’t care that she was so young, and she threw her life away like it was nothing. I closed my eyes and pretended it was me who had walked in on alexia, head heavy, eyes open, vacant. Her arms bloodied, as she sat in the tubs red water, instead of her mother. “WHY. WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO ME?” I yelled to no one. I pulled my hair out, clawing at my face like the maniac I was. She was gone, she was dead, and I would never see the gourgus smile of my best friend, ever, ever again.
