I hate you.
Every fiber of my being hates you. You died; you left me here to clean up your mess. You have broken my body and scarred my face, and you left me with the memory that will haunt me forever. I remember your golden hair stained red with your blood, how your rosy cheek turned cold, resting against the gray steering wheel. I could only lay there, trapped within my seat. I don’t remember the importance of your text; couldn't’t even tell you who it was sent to. I do remember the sound of screeching metal as we rolled over and over, until the whole world became a blur around us. I too, lay steeped in a pool of tears, blood, and broken glass. Tell me, was it worth the prom you’ll never have? The graduation you’ll never get? The college that won’t be yours? The life you no longer have? Hating you is the only thing I know how to do, it’s easier than forgiving you, because, in the end you are dead, your ashes spread into the surf, while I must try to learn to walk without legs, to see without sight, to continue without you. It seems stupid to hate you, maybe you did get a fate worse than mine.

I hear the whispers, the ones that fade away when I walk by, the ones I know are about me.