Fiction. Based on a True Texting Conversation.
This journal entry is inspired by true events. Some of the characters, names, businesses, incidents, and certain locations and events have been fictionalized for dramatic purposes. Any similarity to the name, character or history of any person is entirely coincidental and unintentional.
i feel like a shell of a person
i just don’t feel like a person. so numb. my friend is gone.
i’m sorry. i know its hard.i’m sorry can we talk later?
no one understands me.
i ‘m sorry
how do you process that your best friend is dead? that shock, i cried during my final. prof wouldn’t let me not take it.
it’s because you didn’t have a dean’s note. all of us who received his suicide note were given the option to postpone finals i took mine ok i can’t talk about this now, i’m not in the right mental state.
i lost my friend. everyone keeps telling me how to feel. if i saw his note….
you guys barely spoke. no i am not sending it to you. good night.
You delete the texts. Your friend’s words imprinting themselves into your pupils. Looking around your bedroom, you inhale deeply and let it out with a short exhale. The grey and blue hues of the walls aren’t enough to distract you, but like a silent friend, they wrap around your shoulders.
The room is quiet. You are quiet.
An hour or so goes by.
Hi. i know its late but i need to talk to someone. are you ok to listen?