10-21-13
10:23 a.m.
She is gone.
Adalynn is gone. She left without saying goodbye. My best friend left and didn't even tell me bye. I know why she didn't say it. I made her leave. I pushed her right out the door. I left her first. I deserved this.
Not her.
Adalynn Stewart, my best friend, is gone. She left me. I should have tried harder to make her stay. She deserved a better friend than me. I'm so sorry Addy. I would take your place in a heartbeat.
It's too late now…
   
“Trinity!”
“What? Sorry, I was writing.” Karly stares at me now. Her eyes itching to look down at the journal in my lap. I snatch it up and place it in my book bag. She semi frowns.
“We're almost there,” she exclaims completely forgetting about whatever she may or may not have seen in my journal.
Karly is a friend of mine. Not a best friend. Not even close. She only hangs around me now, because she feels bad for the girl who lost her best friend. Nobody ever talked to me. Not until I met Adalynn. Now I sit here on this repugnant bus with a girl who merely, “feels bad for me,” while on our way to a DSP conference. Who decides a seminar is a field trip? Why did Isign up for this?
The bus comes to a halt.
“ Oh Trin, aren't you so excited?” Karly is nuts if she thinks even for a second this conference is going to “cheer me up.”  I wish it were Adalynn looking at me with those all too brown eyes. Addy would cheer me up. She always did.
Everyone’s eyes are watching me as I get off the bus. I wish they would stop feeling bad for me. If it were me that left, nobody would have blinked an eye. Today would be a normal day for them, except Addy would still be here. I wouldn’t.
The auditorium that the direct support professional conference is being held in smells like faint lavender mixed with laundry detergent. Adalynn would have loved this smell. She loved lavender. Something we had in common. Today, the odor makes me want to hurl. I can taste the acidic vomit climbing up my throat. I am trying so hard to keep it down.
“Everyone take your seats. My name is Mindy and I will be talking to you today about the fundamentals of caring,” a portly woman stands center stage with an overly cheerful smile. I am about to be preached to about how to care for people who can't care for themselves. I could have used this weeks ago. Where was this seminar when I still had the chance to save my bestfriend?
“The first step to caring for someone is to ask.” I never asked Adalynn how she was feeling. I should have asked her. I can feel the heat clawing up my neck. My breathing becoming ragged. Looking down at the pamphlet handed out in the beginning, my sweating palms leaving darkened prints on the paper. I can't take it in here. I need to get out.
“Mr. Mirés, I need to step out. I don't feel so well,” I whisper to the staff member sitting beside me.
“Oh of course, Trinity. I'm so sorry. I know this must be hard for you. Please, go ahead. You can go out those doors and sit on the bench in the hall,” he whispers back, pointing to the doors in the back of the auditorium.
The cold sense of isolation washes over me as I enter the hall. I can breathe again. I look at the handout once again. In my shaking hands I read, “the second step of caring for someone is listening.” I should have listened to Adalynn. I tried, but obviously it was not enough to make her stay.
Next step, “observe.” I thought I knew Addy better than anyone. Everyone saw her though. I thought I  watched her more closely, but obviously not close enough. Then again, nobody saw the same Adalynn I did. She wasn't always smiling, laughing, and making jokes. Darkness had a strong hold around her. I saw it stop her smile. I saw it choke her when she laughed. I saw it look right at me from behind her hurting eyes. I saw it shove my best friend out the door, while I watched. I saw the darkness kill my Addy. And I did nothing.

10-22-13
7:38 a.m.
I made it through yesterday. The conference was awful. Right now as I am writing, her favorite song is playing. Everything reminds me of Addy. Smells, sounds, sights, or even certain presences. I see her everywhere I look. I hear her laugh from down the hall, hoping to see her there when I reach the corner. It's like she haunts me.
The ghost of my bestfriend knows what I have to do. And so do I.
I'm going to make things right.

I walk through the hall as everyone's sad eyes follow me. In class, everyone is still watching me. Scared to move or say anything, in fear I’ll disappear like she did. But Adalynn did not disappear. She knew what she was doing. She isn’t lost. And she is definitely not coming back. She can't.
That's the way it is when you’re dead. There is no coming back. Nobody cares until you’re gone and it's too late. So now as I sit at my desk in chemistry class, I stare at Addy’s empty seat. I cared, but that wasn't enough. And it's too late.
There are 117 that happen everyday. Over 42,773 every year. “What makes me any different?” Adalynn used to ask me this all the time. I always told her I didn't know. But I did. I should have told her. Maybe she would have stuck around if she knew how important and how special she was. She was the weirdest and smartest person I had ever met. Addy wasn't a statistic. She was my best friend.
Adalynn and I used to walk home everyday together. Today the walk home is short and dreary in the October breeze. The fall is here, but Addy is not. No matter how much I wish she would, she isn't coming over to study, laugh, or vent at my place anymore. My house is not even a home anymore. I can't relax there. My mother is gone and my father barely talks to me. Addy was the only one there for me. And now nobody even sees me.

10-22-16
5:14 p.m.
This is my fault. If I had been there. If I had seen her. If I had not ruined her life. She would still be here. I did this. I killed Adalynn.

There is nothing left for me. Addy was everything to me and I ruined it. I should have kept my mouth shut when I told her, “You're right, life doesn't get better.” And I should have opened my mouth when she asked, “Then what's the point?” Sitting on my bed I now see how Adalynn saw life. What's the point?
I walk to the bathroom and sit on the cold tiles with my back against the tub. My right hand clenched around the bottle of oxycodone. I know it will take the whole bottle. I swallow until there is nothing left. And I welcome the slight dizziness and heavy lids that follow. I'm sorry, but I have to make it right, Addy...