Far Gone

She didn’t even say goodbye. That’s all he thought after hearing the news they his best friend had committed suicide. How could she leave him like this? Didn’t she know he’d always be there for her? How could she leave her mother? She knew that she was the only thing she had. How could she be so selfish? Then again she never was.

He couldn’t think to a moment when she did something for herself. And know she choses this to be that miraculous moment when the finally does? She was the kind of girl who put everyone before her, the kind of girl that kept everything a secret. Not even he knew half the things that were buzzing through her mind. How could he not see how unhappy she was?

Just the night before she was on the verge of collapsing, which she eventually did and that led to her use a pillow and drown herself in her own sorrow. All he did was tell her she had to move on from that guy she broke up with. It was her own fault, so she had to move on. All she said was she had a plan, then not another word. She was determined to die, he thought. It’s virtually impossible to suffocate yourself unless you are truly determined to die.

As he drove to her house that afternoon, he was in a daze. Was it his fault? He suggested her that she needed a plan in the first place; he planted the seed. His best friend was gone because of him, he didn’t do enough to help her. He parked up in their garage; she lived in an amazing apartment. He remembered how she used to make fun of him for never parking right, and how she would look at herself in the mirror all the time in the elevator because her hair had to be perfectly in check. She wasn’t vain, just self conscious. He then remembered how she always quirked her nose when she laughed, a laughed he hadn’t heard in moths, and never will again.

He rang the doorbell. Her mother opened the door and all he could do was hug her, she was alone now. Divorced woman, her only daughter gone, he had to be there at least for her mother to make up for the fact that he wasn’t there enough for her. The apartment was filled with the little “family” she had. Those few people who thought knew but never really did.

He walked up the stairs, and went into her room. The bed was still undone; she went to sleep alive and woke up dead in that bed.

He broke down. He has seen her so many times write and write on that ben in her little blue book. She was always writing, be it at her house his, anywhere. Inspiration hit and she would write or type away, regardless of what she was doing, who she was with.

He sat on her bed and remembered the many times she advised him on whatever matter and wouldn’t listen. He thought of all the heartache he would have saved and all the amazing songs he could have written if she just listened to her, ONCE. She never took his advice though, she as too head strong. But she decided take the one he gave her that night, she decided to make a plan.

She was unpredictable in everyway; she was just a mystery to everyone around her.

He went to her computer; he knew she was writing a blog post the night before and wanted it to see if he could find it. Maybe read her last beautiful words to the world.

He opened her paisley print laptop to find a letter, a letter to him.

I know you never thought that your strong friend could commit such an act. Guess what? She wasn’t that strong to begin with. I’m sorry. I will keep you safe from up here, I promise. You’ll never be alone. You are the most special friend anyone could ask for and I truly appreciate everything you’ve ever done for me.
With great love, and deep regret
I
Tears ran down his face as he read the words. He lost it. He had lost her. He lost his only friend. But she wasn’t happy, it would have been selfish of him to want her to stay. Then again he really never did anything for her, not like she did for him; it was right of her to go.

He saw another letter in the envelope. It was an instruction. Look in the third drawer of my bedside table. He did as he was told. Amazing how even gone she could order him to do virtually anything. He found her little blue book. She swore that she would only let him see it “over her dead body,” guess that time has come.

He sat on her bed and opened the notebook. The first entry was when she broke up with her boyfriend. Why she did it, how she felt. He couldn’t handle it. She decides now to truly let me in? He heard steps, so he hid her notebook. It was his to see and his to keep; the only thing he had left of her. To his surprise, it was her ex-boyfriend. What the hell is he doing here? They shared a glance. The ex sat with him on the bed.

“I didn’t have a chance to tell her I still love her”

“She’s gone because she still loved you”

They both cried.

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