The last thing I remember before the pain was anticipation. The thought that a secret revealed was to be something magical and exciting. When it was over, I was numb. My hands shook, and my eyes were blurred. I was having trouble hearing what she was telling me. She said it so casually, as if she didn't care. As if she had done absolutely nothing wrong. Then she spoke of an apology, but did no such thing. My soul burst inward, clearing out my esophagus with a howl of despair. The telephone rolled from my limp hand. She kept right on talking, unknowing that I could not hear her beautiful, yet cutting voice. My vision spiraled I struggled to keep calm, but it was no use. The tears came,
Jesus they came like a fountain of pent-up pain and anguish finally opened for the world to see. My bed felt as a boulder to my back. I could not move. I could not think. My only solace was her picture that I held to my chest, remembering her last words to me. I closed my eyes, and let myself slide into oblivion.
Her last words, my epitaph, drowned out all rational thought.

"You are not the only one."