Maybe Memories
Passing Period.
The week that lead up to her funeral, I don’t think I’ve ever cried to hard. Every single night I crie4d myself to sleep, Avenged Sevenfold covering the sounds of my sobs from my mother’s ears. I didn’t eat that week, I hardly drank anything, and I didn’t leave my room for anything, except for school, which passed in a daze. In school I was like a zombie, getting through the last two weeks like I wasn’t even really there. And I wasn’t. I was so many light years away, remembering. Everyday day of the past ten months flashed through my eyes, and I relived them all. But Lisa’s beautiful emerald eyes, lifeless and cold haunted my memories.
I’ve seen dead eyes before, and only one other time. I found my oma dead in her bed in the living room. I was one the couch watching little Romeo and she didn’t answer me after I called her for about ten minutes. She had been sick, so I thought she was sleeping. But when I went over to her, her eyes were half open and glazed over. Her skin was cold when I touched her and I knew then that she was dead. I was about eight then, and I was the one who had to run upstairs and tell my mother that my oma was dead.
But not even then, when I saw my Oma Audrey like that did I cry as hard as when I think of Lisa’s eyes opened and dead like that. That week passed, though and it left me standing in a crowd of people I never knew, my best friends body in a box in front of me.
When I saw her all I could think about was how much she would have killed her mom if she knew that her hair was pulled back in a pony tail. My guess was to hide the blood that stained the tips of her hair. I didn’t have the common sense then to realize that they probably washed that off, I just remembered all the blood that was pouring out of her. I didn’t cry at her funeral, I was a lifeless shell. And I was angry beyond belief. Her mother and step-father were crying. Even though I knew the tears were fake, they never gave a damn about Lisa. To them, their drugs were more important, they never cared for Lisa. And yet they had the audacity to fake tears for everyone to see, to keep up their charade.
I sat in the back with Karin, holding her hand. Neither of us said a thing, but we didn’t have to. Both of us were a mess, it didn’t need to be said aloud. We were both best-friendless now, and somehow we knew that we’d be spending a lot of time together lately. We’d never be best-best friends, but we’d be there to help each other through this, or at least try.
And we did, we were there for each other all the way up until April, when things took a turn for the worse, but that’s for later. Those months when I was with Karin, I never got better. I was still crying myself to sleep every single night, but in the daytime I got better at pretending. I could fake a smile now, maybe even a laugh or too. Though nothing was funny to me, and nothing could make me smile. In my head the only thing I saw was Lisa’s face, cold and blue and lifeless. If only I knew that too soon another face would join her.
I’ve seen dead eyes before, and only one other time. I found my oma dead in her bed in the living room. I was one the couch watching little Romeo and she didn’t answer me after I called her for about ten minutes. She had been sick, so I thought she was sleeping. But when I went over to her, her eyes were half open and glazed over. Her skin was cold when I touched her and I knew then that she was dead. I was about eight then, and I was the one who had to run upstairs and tell my mother that my oma was dead.
But not even then, when I saw my Oma Audrey like that did I cry as hard as when I think of Lisa’s eyes opened and dead like that. That week passed, though and it left me standing in a crowd of people I never knew, my best friends body in a box in front of me.
When I saw her all I could think about was how much she would have killed her mom if she knew that her hair was pulled back in a pony tail. My guess was to hide the blood that stained the tips of her hair. I didn’t have the common sense then to realize that they probably washed that off, I just remembered all the blood that was pouring out of her. I didn’t cry at her funeral, I was a lifeless shell. And I was angry beyond belief. Her mother and step-father were crying. Even though I knew the tears were fake, they never gave a damn about Lisa. To them, their drugs were more important, they never cared for Lisa. And yet they had the audacity to fake tears for everyone to see, to keep up their charade.
I sat in the back with Karin, holding her hand. Neither of us said a thing, but we didn’t have to. Both of us were a mess, it didn’t need to be said aloud. We were both best-friendless now, and somehow we knew that we’d be spending a lot of time together lately. We’d never be best-best friends, but we’d be there to help each other through this, or at least try.
And we did, we were there for each other all the way up until April, when things took a turn for the worse, but that’s for later. Those months when I was with Karin, I never got better. I was still crying myself to sleep every single night, but in the daytime I got better at pretending. I could fake a smile now, maybe even a laugh or too. Though nothing was funny to me, and nothing could make me smile. In my head the only thing I saw was Lisa’s face, cold and blue and lifeless. If only I knew that too soon another face would join her.
♠ ♠ ♠
The next chapter will be another sad one, and i unfortunately have to write it.But this is my life, and i can't just cut out the bad. Because then i'd have nothing left.
Or at least, i wouldn't be me.
I guess all this sadness that happened in my past makes me who i am.