Angela

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To whom it may concern,

If you are reading this- I am free. I am successful. I am gone. But that's okay. I wasn't meant to be here. I wasn't meant to be content with life, and I wasn't. Sometimes I would try to imagine a future, something to make me happy- but my mind kept venturing to a casket, and maybe that is the only true happiness I will find. The only true piece. Honestly, there was nothing left for me here. Without me, all I loved have everything. You might imagine my death to be complicated, sad. But it's not. It's not complicated. It's not sad. It's what's best for everyone, myself especially. I'd explain all of my thoughts and my feelings, but I can't. I like when in books they leave you asking questions, maybe that's what I am doing. Leaving you with only your imagination to figure out what happened in my head to make this decision. Imagine me.
All my love,
Angela Grace Lockwood.

That's all I got. When I found her, all I saw were her sweet eyes, wide open, her blonde hair wet, her skin pale as always. She wore a beautiful black dress, and had her satchel, the one she always wore. I didn't think to open it. But as I shook her, kissed her, wrapped myself around her lifeless body, I figured I needed to have something. So I took the bag.

I stayed there with her. Until the police came, when they did, they shun a bright light on my beautiful Angela, they told me that it was no longer her, just a shell she walked around in. But God, what a beautiful shell. After they drove me home, I opened the satchel. Inside were a pair of earrings got her for her birthday, a picture of her mother, some soaking wet candy, and a piece of ripped paper- a suicide note.

I couldn't give it to the police. It was mine. But I had to share it with her mother, to reassure her. But I kept it. Along with everything else. I kept her picture framed by my bed, and I didn't return to the lake until today.

It's bright, beautiful. It's quiet. I showed Angela it a few months before her death, I just never assumed she'd drown here. It makes sense, though, I suppose. It was her favourite place on earth. So calm, so gorgeous, so delicate, much like her. My sweet Angela. I grab a rock from the ground and chuck it, the lake ripples for the first time.

My chest fills, I turn, everywhere. Her beautiful blue eyes, her dimples, her soft hands I see it all around me. A work of art, she follows me. I scream, then drop to the dirt. A sob erupts out of me, and in this moment, I know I've lost her for ever.

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