The Goodbye Entry

     This is my first, last, and only entry in this journal. That both pleases me and terrifies me. I guess this is more of a note than anything, but we’ll get to that in time. Anyway, I should probably start from the top.

     My name is Robert. Last names aren’t important. You’ll be just fine knowing me as Robert. Trust me, you won’t know me for long. I’m a senior at West Side High School, which is in the lower portion of Manhattan. I play Tennis. It’s great for stress, and one of the few things I’m talented at. I like Chinese food, but hate Italian. Me not liking pizza doesn’t go over too well with friends, trust me. No siblings, but I wish I did have at least one. Would be nice to know someone will always be there, ya know? I really do consider myself a good person. I know that many people do as well, but I’m convinced I’m a good person. Well, I used to be. I graduate in less than two months. (Would be graduating. Would be graduating.) I’ve always wanted the be an engineer. Building things is my forte, you might say. I was even accepted to MIT with a full ride. Yeah, pretty beastly huh? Only a crazy person would just throw that away. I’m not crazy; I just don’t deserve it. I would say you could be the judge of that, but by the time you finish this I will be long gone. So much for the pleasantries.

     I got this journal on my eighteenth birthday from my best friend. Alicia. She gave it to me so that I could write down all of my ideas. She told me I was one hell of a thinker. She also told me I should write a book. I always laughed, because we both knew that I would probably never be able to put my ideas to paper. Let me tell you, they were pretty far out there. But brilliant nonetheless. She knew that; she pushed me. Well, as much as my stubborn self would let her.

     God, I miss her.

     I swore to myself that I would never fall in love. I saw what “love” did to my parents. We won’t go into it, but take my word for it, it wasn’t pretty. Now, I’m a good-looking guy. Some would say I’m being cocky, but I only ever thought of myself confident. Anyway, I did date. I didn’t date tons of different girls, but I would keep a girlfriend for three or four months at a time. And I usually had about two or three girlfriends a year. You do the math. I was in a relationship almost all the time. I liked it. Being with someone is a nice comforting feeling. Every time a relationship started to get a bit too serious for me though, I’d break it off. Nothing serious for me. “Robert, don’t get tied down,” I would always tell myself. Don’t get tied down, because I’m leaving this place as soon as I can.

     Looking back, I realize that Alicia was the girl for me. We’d become friends my freshman year and since then had been inseparable. I could tell her anything. There were times when I’d go over to her house and hang out and watch movies, and then we’d fall asleep in her room. And there, in the dark with her, I was perfectly at peace. Sounds stupid right? Well, maybe you know what I’m talking about, maybe you don’t. I pray one day you do. And that you hold on to it. Don’t be like me. If nothing else, don’t be like me.

     I know now that she was the only one who really understood me. I’d like to think I understood her, but she was a complicated creature indeed. Did I tell you that she painted? That girl had a gift like I had never seen. She told me once that she like to paint anything, but her favorite was to paint music. Paint music! Impossible right? Let me tell you, she could paint the most beautiful music I’ve ever seen. It used to break my heart.
Six months ago I found out she was in love with me. She told me one night while at her house. She said she would never lie to me and that she had to tell me. Alicia never was one to be coy about such things. She was probably the most outspoken person I knew. Never afraid to tell someone off or tell someone something they needed to hear. I admired her for that. Anyway, when she told me, I froze. Honestly, in the back of my mind I think I knew. It’s just I never expected it to, you know, actually come up or develop into something. Now, Alicia was pretty. She had a gorgeous face. But, well, she was a big girl. And I mean Big girl. Didn’t mean I didn’t care about her less. It’s just that, well, I couldn’t date her! Do you understand what people would have said?

     She told me that things didn’t have to change. That we’d still be best friends. That nothing would ever change that. Ever. But I changed that. I changed everything.


     Stupid Boy. Stupid Boy. Stupid Boy.

    
     I stopped answering my phone. I stopped going over to her house. I basically stopped being her friend as much as I could without ending our friendship. Does that make sense? Probably not. I rarely make sense to anyone. (I made sense to her.) To tell you the truth, I thought it was going to kill me. I rarely talked to her except in class. And most of that was limited. But I couldn’t be near her. I just couldn’t! At first, I assumed I was just creeped out by the thought and that I needed time. That everything would be normal again in a little while. Then I realized what had really happened. Somewhere between all our stupid jokes, serious conversations, and late nights in, I had fallen in love with her. I did. It scared me. Terrified me actually. And so I did the only logical thing I could think of: I completely detached myself from her.


What the hell was I thinking?

 

     Five months. Five months without a single word. I wouldn’t let myself be in love. And in love with her of all people. I knew it was taking a toll on her. It sure as hell was killing me. (But it had to be done. Didn’t it?) I just didn’t know how bad it had gotten until about a month ago. She showed up in third block late--she was always late for school these days--and drunk. When I say drunk I mean hammered. She smelled like whiskey and looked like she hadn’t slept all weekend. I think that was my wake-up call.

     I tried calling her that night. No answer. Left her 3 voicemails. No return calls. I waited. And waited. And waited. Nothing. She wasn’t at school the next day. She wasn’t at school the entire week, actually. I called and called and called. No response. Nothing.

     After I couldn’t reach her, I don’t know…something inside me clicked. I had to get to her somehow. I wanted to tell her that I did love her. That she was my best friend in the entire world and that I couldn’t imagine my life without her. I wanted to hold her and tell her that she didn’t have to be so strong. She was always so strong for everyone. I needed her to know she didn’t have to be. I wanted to tell her I was sorry for everything and that I would make it right. I wanted to kiss her; hold her hand; touch her face. I wanted to love her. I had to love her.

     Two days later, while staring at my phone and hoping she’d reply to my latest voicemail, Alicia was on the News. Actually, I couldn’t see her. But her car, upside down in a ditch and totaled, was in plain view. News didn’t say much. Eighteen year old senior killed in accident. Driving drunk. Dead on impact.

     I think my heart stopped. It should have stayed that way.
 

     The school memorial was nice I guess. We all had an assembly in the Gym. Teachers spoke, students spoke. They hung her artwork around in the lobby. A tribute, I guess. The administrators wanted me to say a few words; I couldn’t. Couldn’t do anything. The wake and funeral were nice too. Very tasteful. Closed casket. I was thankful. I couldn’t have looked if it was open anyway. Everything flew by in a blur. I was numb. Actually, I can’t feel much of anything anymore.

     Only now as I write these pages am I crying. It is a sweet release. It was my fault, you know. Say what you will, think what you will. It was my fault. I killed her. This proves it. If I could take it back…if.

God, I love her. I miss her.

     So there you have it. The only thing that ever mattered I have let slip through my fingers. She’s gone. Forever. And there’s nothing I can do. Now I think I‘m going to leave. That was the whole point of this entry. I needed to get this down, get it out of me, so maybe I could move on. Or try. I have to leave. To where? I’m not quite sure yet. I’ve got enough in my bank account to move somewhere, get a small apartment, a decent minimum wage job, and just go from there. Good thing I saved up for college. The Parents won’t miss me much. I don’t know what to do with this. Keep it? Throw it away? Publish it? Heck, maybe I’ll even be writer. She would like that. I have a plane ticket to New Orleans. No reason in particular. I just feel I need to be away from this God-awful city. Alicia loved the city. I have the ticket on the desk to the right of me. Leaves tomorrow. On the left, my Dad‘s Smith and Wesson. He won’t notice it’s gone, so no worries. As I sit here I wonder if my conscience will be kind enough to let me take a ride to New Orleans. Or will it make me take a ride to Hell?

Author's Note

Kind of pissy when I wrote this, and hope the tone coveys that. I know it's a bit rough. Did it in one sitting. Might edit it later.

Reviews

[WriterMe]

No no. Don't change a thing about it. It was perfect. You need to have or at least feel something when writing a journal type of story. If you don't then, it just seems a little.... blah. But once again you have managed to create a very unique work. Your story lines really have to be admired. They are so different from each other yet they have this thin line of resemblance. Haha, I guess that line refers to the same writer writing all them.
But i just love your skill. It so different yet it allures the reader to want to read more.
I might just run out of adjectives while critiquing your work. Or maybe not =P
Great job =]

--Niki

[nostal]

It's nice. Although i want a little bit more of.....i dont know...but something.