The mornings, both the easiest and hardest parts of the day. For a few minutes in that disturbing time between awake and asleep I managed to forget about Kelli, somehow she just wasn’t there, wasn’t included in my thoughts. But then there was always the result of that, remembering again, as bad as the first time I heard. And it was the same every single morning. I woke up, lay there, remembered and then started crying, often for hours and hours, just thinking of how I missed my chance, how I was so utterly useless that she had given up everything. It took me all the strength I had just to get out of bed to face everything, everyone. But even when I did get up I still had absolutely no energy. My parents really were walking on eggshells around me, I couldn’t bring myself to actually tell them, couldn’t find the words; they knew nothings of my struggles with Kelli, nothing. They thought I was the happy cheery girl I was before I found out about her, that disastrous night. But I could tell my sister, just, and I did, I just walked into her room, and as blankly as I could, to avoid crying, said 'Kelli, she...she commited suicide last night, she's dead, tell mum and dad and plase dont talk to me' then walked back to my room, where I promptly started crying again. They did let me stay home from school; I couldn’t bear to face anyone. They didn’t mention Kelli to me, just treated me like they did when I was ill, letting me lie endlessly on the sofa, looking at the television but not really watching it, spontaneously bursting into tears. Of course they said that I ‘could talk to them at anytime’ but I didn’t feel like speaking to anyone, I would only have mumbled incomprehensible words, and then started crying again. I felt so weak, I no Kelli wouldn’t have wanted me to cry…