So I wrote this story, and it's pretty good. I burnt again at lunch today, and i'm going to tomorrow. I like it. I had an almost anxiety attack in french class. It's bloody well crazy. I started freaking out and spazming. Then, like I said, I burnt. So I felt better. I now know why drugs are addictive. They make you so much happier then they'd normally be. I'm not an addict, though. I won't let myself be. I just enjoy it immensley. I'm grounded and it bloody well sucks. I fucking hate this bullshit. Anyways, I want someone to read my story, an comment on it. Please. ------------------------- Her words were like daggers stabbing me slowly in the heart. “I hate you,” Angela screamed while her face bled translucent tears, “I hope you trip!”As I watched this girl, my best friend in the world, kicking and screaming while being led into the back of a blaring ambulance. I don’t know if I was feeling regret or the immense pain of watching my fragile world shatter in my hands, but my cloudy eyes could concentrate only on the ugly neon yellow shine of the ambulance. I don’t know how we got to this point, Angela and I. We met about two years ago. She was someone distant, a friend of a friend, that I got close to for no particular reason. She seemed like the type of girl that was easily accepted. She was beautiful and no one missed it. She was the student every teacher loved, the friend everyone wanted. So naturally I was intrigued with the fact that she was so sullen, so uninterested by the ever common teenage politics. Her sadistic yet chipper personality and my morbid curiosity got along well. Before we knew it, she was my buddy of choice, my best friend. With Angela everything seemed to be so right. We got mentally close, physically close, and soon enough overly dependent. It was about 4 months into our seemingly fast-paced friendship that I realized there was much more to her then reached the eye. She would go to such great lengths to avoid people in general that it made me wonder if she was secretly afraid of people, or just afraid to get too close to anyone. Whatever it was, it didn’t seem to affect me. She let her guard down and in effect I saw a side of her that no one else had. When I was with her she was giddy and loving but some type of hidden angst always showed in her eyes. We were sitting in her basement watching some cheap movie when she told me that she loved me. I understood, and realized that secretly I loved her too. It was as simple as that, no exploration needed. I had no problem dating my best friend, even if no one could ever find out. It was September 16th the day I tried to commit suicide. 30 extra strength Tylenol and a whole lot of broken dreams are the only valid explanations I can use to depict this atrocity. She denies it, but I know that she hasn’t been the same since. Those tired eyes let me read her like a story book. She kept me close as she could after that, so afraid that I would burst again. She became even more anxious then normal and was just a gigantic puddle of emotion. She hid it, but I saw it. Once again, it was the eyes. It’s been about a year since. I slept at her house last night, because we went to some party and I didn’t feel like going home. When I woke up, she was sitting at her desk silently staring into her darkened computer screen. It took me less then a second to realize there were tears in her eyes. I went over and put my arms around her, my beautiful Angela. “I don’t want to be here right now,” she whispered into my ear, “I don’t want to be sitting here in this forsaken place anymore. I can’t take it, I don’t know how you’ve waited so long, baby, I just can’t do this.” I hugged her while she sobbed into my sweater, for about ten minutes until she stopped crying and her eyes returned to their regular state of tired. “You know, you should really go take a shower, we have to be out of here in twenty minutes, if you want to catch the bus.” And so, I did. I took a quick shower and changed my clothes in the bathroom. I took my time brushing my hair and doing my makeup. I knew that even if we ran as fast as possible, we’d never make the bus to my house and I wasn’t in any hurry anyways. I got out of the bathroom to walk into her deserted bedroom, where we had been sitting before. “Angela?” I yelled. Something about the situation was not kosher. I should have known better then to leave her alone while she was acting so down, that though she might act okay and seem tranquil she was really disturbed. I started frantically searching her house while yelling her name out and hoping she’d respond. I’d checked every possible room and even the outdoors to see where she could possibly be. Her shoes and purse were in the closet, so she couldn’t have gone too far. I realized that I had missed but one room, her father’s study. I went down and knocked on the door in the case that her father was actually home. To my surprise, it was Angela that responded. “Baby, just go away please, I need to be alone.” I knew that now was not the time to be leaving her alone, so I banged on the door once again. “Just let me in, Angela. Let me in and we can talk about what’s getting to you.” Her only response was silence pierced by sobbing. “Angela, let me inside right now or I’m going to call your mom. “ She finally responded. “No you won’t, if you love me. I know you wouldn’t call her anyways. What could she do? I’d hear you on the phone and I’d pull the trigger. You don’t want to kill me on your own, now do you baby?” What was she doing? She had a reasonably great life and she was an amazing person. I told her that, that whatever she was going to do she was going to regret. “I just don’t want to live, I’m so sick of this stuff, the trivial everyday routine, I want to break the routine. I want out of this world. I don’t want to go to heaven or hell, I just want to get out of here!” At this point I started crying also. “Angela just let me in. Please!” I sobbed. “Only if you promise not to tell.” And so I agreed, on the condition that she gave me the gun. She let me in her smoke filled office. I could tell that she had been smoking some type of illegal substance and that was why she had gone so nuts. But Angela had never done drugs before, she had always been so against them. Especially in her own house. Reluctantly, she handed over the handgun that she had propped on the desk. One thing was for sure, it was loaded. She started crying again. “I took pills- I’m not sure how many. All I know is I took them before you woke up, and my head really hurts.” It had been about an hour. “Angela!” I screamed, “What are you doing? I have to get you to a hospital – now! You’re going to die!” Tears were endlessly falling out of her beautiful eyes. I could see that she had cracked. “You had no problem trying to leave me, baby. Why should I listen to you? Besides, you promised.” She started laughing, slowly at first and then into a more consistent morbid laugh. I knew that I had no choice but to break my promise. I didn’t want to, but it was a life or death situation. I’d rather lose my best friend while she was alive then lose her because she was dead. It wasn’t even a question of that, I love the girl, and that’s what I felt I had to do. I calmed her down, and went upstairs to ‘get a glass of water’. I called 911 and they said they’d send an emergency response team as soon as possible. I went back upstairs and suggested we sit outside and talk about things. She had with her a bottle of some undetermined alcoholic beverage. She sipped from it while she cried, once again. It seemed like she never stopped crying. “What are you doing Angela? Your liver is going to burst!” After a moment of silence she responded, slowly but with such seeming malicious intent, “That’s the point.” She kissed me, lied down on the porch, and curled up into a ball. Slowly I could hear the wailing of sirens in the distance. It was the middle of the day but it felt like night had come upon us. It didn’t take her very long to realize what I had done. She started screaming, “You stupid girl! What did you do? Do you know what their going to do to me? Their going to try and SAVE me. You promised. I hope you rot, I hope you f***ing rot.” With that she threw the bottle at the ground. It shattered, and she picked up one of the pieces of glass and started digging away at her arm. She knew that if she cut the exact right way, she’d slit her artery and die before she got to the hospital. I grabbed her and held her back, as the ambulance came into the driveway. Two men came and restrained her, then pried the glass out of her firm grip. She was yelling and screaming at the top of her lungs but the words were indistinguishable. She was never one to give in without a fight. That seems horribly ironic, because that’s what she did do. She gave in to the pressures and willingly inflicted death upon herself. As I watch the blaring sirens and the ugly neon yellow back out of my best friend’s driveway, I don’t know exactly what I’m feeling. I don’t know what their going to do to her now. I doubt she’ll ever speak to me again. For once, though, the situation wasn’t about me. I know that I made the right choice, because someone like her is better living then dead. Now I am left to sit here, all alone, and think. Why today? What happened? So many questions and no answers whatsoever. I am left here alone to figure out what had gone so terribly wrong with the girl that seemed so terribly right, in a state that I can describe only as comfortably numb.