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Wishing...

As I sat there writing that note all I could do was think of her. Her beautiful smile was what had kept me alive for this long. She was always there to make me smile and give me something to live for. But it had gotten to the point where I couldn’t take it anymore, I had to go. I had told her I was going to bed and that I loved her and she told me she loved me too and she would see me tomorrow. I knew I would see her, but she wouldn’t see me.
I made sure in the note to make it clear she was not the one to blame for my death and I made clear who was to blame. I wrote that I loved her and always would and I wanted her to go on with her life, not let me being gone hinder her in anyway; that I would always be with her in sprit and watching her. I wanted her to find someone better then me. She deserved the best.
As I finished the note I knew it was time for me to go. So I lifted up the gun to my head, and pulled the trigger…

I had never told anyone the way I felt about death, and I can’t explain to you how it felt after death either. I can’t tell you where I was, I couldn’t tell you for how long I was there. But I can tell you this: Something told me I was going back. I can’t say if it was god or really anything at all. But I was going back, not as myself not as anyone anybody knew. I was to return to my high school and see what had become of everyone. I couldn’t tell anyone who I was, but I doubt they would believe me or even care. But it was time for me to shut my eyes once more, so I did as I was told.

When I woke up I was in a room that I had never seen before, I thought I was dreaming, but can you dream when you are dead? I got up off the bed that I was laying on and looked out the window; I was at the motel that was down the street from my old school. I looked at the time and saw that if it was in fact a week day, school would be starting very soon, I had to get going.
I walked to the school and as I did I looked around, nothing looked different. My leaving hadn’t affected anything, why did I have to come back? Cars still passed with the drivers not taking a second look at anyone else. They were perfectly content with there nine to five lives. I couldn’t stand it. Why was I supposed to see this I already had to live through this pointless game once.
When I got to the school and went inside I saw my old friends walking together, but my girlfriend wasn’t with them, I was sad she wasn’t I was hoping to be able to see her beautiful face the second I walk in, just how I had been able to do when I was alive. But I couldn’t have really expected her to be waiting for me. I decided to follow them to see what they were up to, we turned down the hall and I saw them stop in front of my locker and put a flower on to the door. When they left I walked up to get a better look. On the locker their was a hand write poem for me by my girl, many pictures of me with her and my friends and one big picture of just me in the middle, she had taken that picture of me on our last anniversary. It was hard for me not to cry but I couldn’t in this crowd of people. My friend Paul had come back and saw me looking at the pictures he told me who I was and what had happened to me, and that it had happened almost six months ago and the school didn’t reassign my locker because I had been a senior and they thought I was the best way to honor my memory. He then explained that he and the rest of them would put a new flower on the locker every few days. I could tell he was trying not to cry. He thought I was a new student, a stranger; I wanted so much to tell him who I truly was, tell him not to be sad. But I couldn’t, I never meant to hurt my friend. So I just said that then poem was beautiful. He told me that my girlfriend had written it, and pointed to the picture of her, told me that her and I had plans of marrying. Then he told me how crushed she was when I had died. She had been the one who found my body. That devastated me, I wished she hadn’t had see me that way. I couldn’t imagine what that could have been like for her I felt terrible. I asked him how she was doing and he told me she hadn’t been back to school sense she came in for an hour to clean out and decorate my locker the week after my death. He told me that she had plans on being a writer but this poem was the last thing she had written. She couldn’t even leave her room to this day. They would go and visit her everyday, but she wasn’t getting better. I couldn’t believe that my death made her stop writing she loved writing, it was her dream. But she had stopped, how could she just stop just because of me?
Paul then apologized for talking up my time, he said it helped him when he was able to talk about and a stranger not knowing what had happened gave him a chance to talk and he thanked me for listening, I told him he had no reason to apologize, that it was a terrible thing loosing someone, he just thanked me again and walked away. I couldn’t just leave this; I knew what I had to do. I was going to enroll myself at the school something told me I was supposed to. When I looked inside the back pack that was on my back I knew I was supposed to, all the information need to enroll into the school was in there. So I went to the office and enrolled in all the classes that I know my girl was enrolled in, I could only hope she would be back to school soon.
After school as I was walking back to the motel and I saw my old friends pass in Paul’s car, they were going to her house and I knew it. I wanted more then anything to go to her house to try and see her, but since I was a stranger now, I knew I couldn’t. So I did the only thing I could do I went back to my room and sat, and thought about her and how much I loved her.
The next day at school I went to my first period, creative writing. And in the class was Sara, another one of mine and my girl’s friends talking to the teacher. Telling her that my girl would be in class the next day, they had convinced her to come in since tomorrow was her 18th birthday. I left the class at that point, I had to get out of there, her 18th birthday, that was the day I was giving her a ring to be my wife. I was so thankful that I would see her tomorrow, so thankful they had convinced her to not be alone on her birthday. But I was not thankful for what I had done to her. I went to my old locker and took the poem my girl had written me and the pictures we had taken together in the booth at the mall last summer and snuck into the copy room to make myself copies. I put the originals back on the locker and left the school. I had to leave I couldn’t be there today. I went back to the motel room and climbed in to bed, the only way I could spend my day was the way I knew my girl was spending hers.

The next day I got to the school so early there was no one there but teachers. I sat on the bench near the door so I could be the one waiting for her for once. I sat there and waiting thinking about her, thinking about how great it was going to be to see her and especially on her birthday. In the note I had left I had talked about this day and I told her she had to do something she would enjoy since I wouldn’t be here to make it perfect. I was hoping she would do that, enjoy her day she deserved the best day of her life. I had also left for her the ring I was going to give her today, and I really hoped she would be wearing it, even though I knew that was selfish, to expect her to be wearing that ring after so long when I had left her. But I couldn’t lie, I really did want her to be.
I watched people walk in looking for my beautiful girl. When I saw Paul and them walk in my heart skipped a beat there in the middle of them wrapped in the arms of friends was my girl. She was so beautiful. I just wanted to run up and hug her but I couldn’t. But I could watch her and listen to her. When she stopped walking and said she wanted to see my locker on her own and they agreed to stay there and wait for her, I got up to follow her, I made sure to pass them so Paul couldn’t see me going after her. I saw her standing at my locker wiping away her tears as she place another flower on to the locker and she spoke to me; telling me she loved me and missed me so much, that she didn’t know how much longer she could make it without me. That the only reason why she had come to school was that I asked her to enjoy her birthday as best as she could. But then she fell to her knees and a girl passing by helped her up when she passed me with tears streaming down her face, she brought her hand up to wipe them away and there it was, my ring…
When class had started she had composed herself and the creative writing teacher walked over to her when she entered the class room gave her a hug and wished her a happy birthday. My girl thanked her and took her seat, which was in front of me. This was my chance to talk to her. I wished her a happy birthday, which I didn’t think I would be able to tell her. She turned and told me thank you and said it was a nice thing to do being I didn’t know her, she smiled but I knew her well enough to know it was a fake smile. And when I looked into her eyes I saw a pain that even I couldn’t say I have felt. It was a sadness that was beyond tears. I couldn’t hold her, couldn’t tell her I loved her, but I could say something, that I knew the story and that I was so sorry, and that even though he was gone he would never stop loving her. She began to cry but then she smiled, this time it was a real smile and told me that what I had said was exactly what she needed to hear today. Even though I couldn’t truly be there for her today and for the past few months, I was so glad I could give her that. But I wished I could have given her more.
The rest of the day I watched her. She was having the best day she could and that was all I could ask of her, I followed to watch at a distance I had to be apart of it even if I couldn’t first hand. I was beginning to understand why I was sent here, to see what my choice had done to the one I loved and to fix it best I could, and I hope what I had said helped I wished more then anything I could have truly been there with her, I cursed myself the whole day. How could I have done this to my beautiful angel, she had stopped going to school and writing, and she had lost that happiness she had. She didn’t smile the rest of the day and I knew she wouldn’t be able to again. But I couldn’t expect her to.
At the end of the day I watched her walk back over to my old locker and she just stood there for awhile and looked at it she opened it up and took something out of it. My old jacket that I would always put around her shoulders when we were outside in the cold. No doubt kept in there as a part of me for my friends to visit. She put it on and walked outside to Paul’s car. I always loved the way she looked in that jacket; I would sometimes put it on her even when she wasn’t cold. I could tell she had wanted to wear it again for a long time, I was glad she finally had it.
I went to the motel and lay on the bed. All I could think about was how I wished I could be with her. I wanted to be next to her, holding her, telling her how sorry I was and how much I loved her. I knew my visit was nearing the end. I had seen what I was here to see, so I thought. As I thought more and more about all this, I knew that I regretted it. Maybe I am here because ill be allowed to come back. Me come back not as who ever I was but as who I had been before I made this mess. Be able to hold my girl and make her mine forever. I looked at the pictures of us; I read and reread the poem over and over. After a few times I memorized it, but I kept reading. I wanted so much to stay. But I couldn’t.
As I lay there everything went white again, and I could hear that, something again. But this time I asked questions. Why was I sent back here? I would know soon enough. Could I stay? No I couldn’t. I had one hour left here; I had to make the most of it. So I left and ran to my girl’s house, there was no one home but I saw that her bedroom light was on. So I went inside to tell her everything, who I was and how much I loved her. I ran up to her room. But I wasn’t prepared for what I saw.
There my girl laid a gun in her hand and bleeding from the cheat. I ran to her, but she was gone, she was so cold to the touch. I found a note saying she was sorry but she couldn’t go on any longer, she had to know if she could see me on the other side and if she could she couldn’t stand being apart from me any longer the note lie on my jacket, the same place my note had was found. I fell to my knees and cried. Then I began to yell for that something when it came I asked it why it didn’t stop her. The same reason it hadn’t stopped me, it couldn’t. I asked why she hadn’t gone to someone for help. The same reason I didn’t. I hadn’t come back to fix thing I had come back to learn a lesson. That suicide doesn’t fix things the only way to fix things is to ask for help. Something me and my girl hadn’t done cause we assumed no one would listen or understand. We thought it was the only way, but it wasn’t, it just hurt the ones we loved. I couldn’t go back and stop what I had done to myself, but I wanted to. I never meant to hurt anyone. I just wanted my pain to end. I never thought my death could cause the pain it had, I wished it hadn’t. I wished I was still alive, but that’s the thing about a death wish it can’t be granted then taken back. Death was final, and I couldn’t do anything to fix that. Why didn’t I tell my girl I needed help, she would have help me. She would have been there for me. She would have understood.
It was time to go. I didn’t have a choice anymore. I had already made that decision six months ago, when I really shouldn’t have. It was time to go back into the white. I didn’t know if I would see my girl on the other side, but I hoped more then anything I would. But if didn’t I would always have the last work she had written in my mind forever, her poem for me…
For the words never spoken, for the pain that was felt.
For the look deep in the eyes, for the tears that were cried.
For the feeling of not being understood, for the feeling of being alone.
For the note that was written, for the gun in the hands.
For everything you went though, we will always be sorry.





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