Dear Catalina

VI

Dear Catalina, 

        That is the single most terrible thing that has ever happened in my entire life. I lost you. And it was all my fault. I could have drank at any other usual party. Drinking cost me my life. My life was you. I haven't touched a glass of alcohol since that day. I just wish I could be with you.

        My little sister asks about you. She's only four, so she doesn't understand the concept that you're never coming back. 

        "Where is Catalina? Why can't you invite her over so I can play barbies with her?" Marina would wine. 

        I could never look at her when she talked about you. I would always tell her that you left. And she'd ask why, and I would say because of me, and leave it at that. I don't know how I'm going to finish these last four weeks of school. 

        Yesterday, Jade apologized to me. I think she only did it because now everyone stares and whispers about me. Not that they didn't already. She told me she felt bad about it and she just got the courage to tell me.

        "It's whatever, Jade," I said slamming my locker door a little louder than usual.

         I walked away to history. We had history together. I sat behind you. Your seat is open now, I'm waiting for it to be occupied. I hate it. I wish I could throw the seat out the window. It mocks me, as I try and learn about the Indus River Valley. It's a reminder that you're not here anymore. I blew it. I took your life.

        You would probably tell me-if you could, that I did not take your life. But I did. I was the one that got drunk after you specifically told me not to. I was the one that fought with you. You never even heard my answer-if I did love you or not.

        I loved you more and more everyday. I loved you in ninth grade, I love you when you are not here with me now. I don't think that there will come a day where I don't think about you, Catalina. Everyone has that one thing that keeps them alive when you're depressed. And that was you.

        I've been smoking a lot lately. Smoking weed. It helps me relax. It takes me to another world. I have become addicted. I can't stop it. 

        Being depressed sucks. You're sad all the time. You were always happy. You made other people happy, especially me. My favorite memory of you was the day we went to the San Francisco Fair. We were on a gondala, and your long brown hair was flying around with the wind. Our thighs were touching. You looked down and I stared at you the entire ride. You smiled at me.

        "Why do you keep looking at me? Is there something on my face?" you giggled. 

        I shook my head. "I just want to remember this moment. Maybe if I stare at you the entire time on this ride it will be engraved in my head. Forever. Like I can watch it, over and over. You know?" 

        "I hate you," you blushed and looked down again.

Nate