Status: And it Has Begun
Beth's Letters
8
I read the letter and then reread it. I read it for a third time and placed it on the table in front of me.
Does this bitch really think I care that she’s dead?
The world hasn’t changed a bit now that she’s gone. I can’t believe she wrote me a letter, I mean she knows I didn’t care about her. But hey, it’s not like she was all buddy, buddy with me either. It was mutual. I couldn't single-handedly make her want to kill herself, right? There has to be someone else that made her depressed.
Why do I even care? She’s dead. Anyway, it wasn’t right for her to decide to send the letter after she died. She didn’t have the balls to send then when she was alive.
I got up from my seat in the dining room and walked into the living room to watch some TV. When I turned the TV on it was on the local news channel. 18 year old high school student kills herself was the story they were covering. A lump welled up in my throat and I swallowed hard. It was my fault, wasn't it?
She was only 18, she had her whole life in front of her. Did I take that away from her? No. I couldn’t have. There must have been something, someone else. It couldn’t have been only me. It couldn’t be my fault.
Granted I wasn't the nicest to her but I couldn’t have made her so miserable that she killed herself because of me. No, she was just playing the blame game, trying to blame everyone else for her problems.
Or maybe I was her problem. Maybe I made life for her so horrible that she felt that she had no other way out. Oh God! It’s my fault. I did this to her.
No. I refused to believe that. There was nothing that I said or did that could make that bitch want to kill herself. She was an over dramatic teenager.
By sending me a letter blaming her death on me made her immature. Take some responsibility for you actions. I turn the TV off walked back into the dining room grabbed the letter and ripped it into dozens of pieces. Fuck this.
Does this bitch really think I care that she’s dead?
The world hasn’t changed a bit now that she’s gone. I can’t believe she wrote me a letter, I mean she knows I didn’t care about her. But hey, it’s not like she was all buddy, buddy with me either. It was mutual. I couldn't single-handedly make her want to kill herself, right? There has to be someone else that made her depressed.
Why do I even care? She’s dead. Anyway, it wasn’t right for her to decide to send the letter after she died. She didn’t have the balls to send then when she was alive.
I got up from my seat in the dining room and walked into the living room to watch some TV. When I turned the TV on it was on the local news channel. 18 year old high school student kills herself was the story they were covering. A lump welled up in my throat and I swallowed hard. It was my fault, wasn't it?
She was only 18, she had her whole life in front of her. Did I take that away from her? No. I couldn’t have. There must have been something, someone else. It couldn’t have been only me. It couldn’t be my fault.
Granted I wasn't the nicest to her but I couldn’t have made her so miserable that she killed herself because of me. No, she was just playing the blame game, trying to blame everyone else for her problems.
Or maybe I was her problem. Maybe I made life for her so horrible that she felt that she had no other way out. Oh God! It’s my fault. I did this to her.
No. I refused to believe that. There was nothing that I said or did that could make that bitch want to kill herself. She was an over dramatic teenager.
By sending me a letter blaming her death on me made her immature. Take some responsibility for you actions. I turn the TV off walked back into the dining room grabbed the letter and ripped it into dozens of pieces. Fuck this.