The End - 6/24/2003

Once, there was, a girl (how a-typical of me?). This girl was just another one of those faces in the crowds that you saw, and forgot. The kind with the plain features and the plain hair and the plain eyes. She lived alone, in the middle of a crappy city, with smog and lights, and where you cant see the stars. She lived alone in a crappy apartment without a heater or an AC. she was lucky to have running water.

So, this girl, liked to live with crowds. She liked to walk and look at the people, and they became a part of her world. She always liked to think that this was all her world, that's why people couldn't see her (except for the nasty old man who ran her place of residence). That without her, no one would go on. So she liked to see what her creations were doing. She didn't care that she was alone. She didn't remember he past, so she was sure that meant there was nothing before her either.

But soon, she grew tired of sitting alone, and watching the people. She tried to make friends. She did. Then she just felt obligated to them, to make everything they wanted happen, since she did create all of this in her mind. She would cry at night, because she was alone. Truly alone.

Then she met a boy. Not one of those glossy movie boys with the slick shit hair and the speedy sports cars and the big houses that they've fucked girls in every rooms. Not the kind of boy who cared about trends or what other people thought. But he noticed her, and she noticed him. He saw her as an angel, that she wasn't plain, that her hair was soft, and her eyes were deep, and that her heart was caring and good. And she only saw his eyes, for in them, she saw the beauty he saw in her, reflecting back.

This was love, not pure, but love all the same.

One night, her boy, was killed, in a mugging. She withdrew from society, and withdrew from the world, and hid in her apartment and only stuck envelopes out when the rent was due. It was her fault. She created this world, and therefore, she killed him. She killed the only person who made her beautiful. She killed herself, the person she wanted to be.

Eventually, the owner of her apartment came in to find out why the checks stopped coming, they found her dead, in the bath tub, her wrists slit, floating in the water, dyed red from her blood. They found a paper, on the floor, damp and creased, with tearstains on it. A poem, a suicide letter.

:|: The end :|:
Freak out
Break down
She falls to pieces
Tears flow and hit the ground
It's raining
And someone's asleep
In their lovers arms.
While she's crying
And dying
And lying on her bathroom floor.
It's happy
And a parent
Sings to a child
While she's rocking
And talking
To the girl that she locked away
And somewhere
A baby is born
And somewhere
An old woman dies
And somewhere
A person
Is taken before their time
While she's screaming
And dreaming
Of the life she might have had
She's afraid
The world
Might end without her
That everyone
Is here because of her
That if she leaves they'll all go with her
And it's not fair
To anyone
But she's more alone
And drowning in the silence
And the weight of the bodies
So she's slashing
And gasping
And firing the shot
And the world is over
And no one cares.

They buried her, in the cheapest cemetery they could find, with the cheapest grave marker they could get. And her friends wondered, and her parents were sad, about the daughter they lost twice. And her poem was lost, and her body rotted, and the world grew old and died. And no one remembered, and no one knew. And no one cared.

The End.

AN:When the world ends for you, it might go on for others.

Me: I wrote this for my bf (well not for him in specific, just in an email I sent him...) he hasn't read it yet. He isn't so depressed like me, and doesn't really like me to be depressed. I think this might scare him.

Círdan: I think YOU scare him...

Me: *shoves Círdan into the closet* teehee! So please review and give comments and stuff. I love everyone who reads and comments!