When I Die, I'll Only Leave This Story About My Love

      I'd like to think that when I die someone will care, someone will be there to miss me because they couldn't imagine living a day without me. There's no one left to miss me, Max is gone and he's all I had. My parents probably don't even know I'm still alive if they are, they jumped ship when I was fifteen and they went out without ever coming home. If I had died before Max I can imagine that he would care, I'm sure he would be just as miserable as I am now. But I wouldn't want him to feel the way I do, to want to call me, to want to go home and fall asleep next to me, to wish he could wake up and have me there again. I hope he's happy and not hurting anymore, wherever he went after he died. I always hated knowing Max was upset or hurting, he would pretend to be okay but when you're as close to someone as I was to him you can tell when someone's hurting. I'm in a way glad that Max doesn't have to miss me. I think I'll stop writing as soon as I'm done with this, I would have stopped writing a long time ago if Max hadn't told me not to. "You're an Amazing writer E. you could make a textbook into a magical work of art," he grinned tousling my hair and kissing my cheek. I don't write stories anymore like I used to write for Max, I'm only writing this because I want Max to be remembered.

            You're probably getting annoyed with me or you already have for a few pages, you want me to stop talking about what Max has helped me do or how in love I am with Max and how much he means to me. How he's my life line, all honesty he's still keeping me alive. If I killed myself right now, I would throw away everything Max told me or taught me, he was really smart for a twenty two year old. He read a lot and studied mental disorders, he studied a lot of metaphysical things too. He was raised Catholic and never forgot even as he moved through different religious beliefs, he always went back to Catholicism. Always went to mass.