Black Tears Upon My Heart | Teen Ink

Black Tears Upon My Heart

June 21, 2012
By Kay_Kay GOLD, Maclagan, Other
Kay_Kay GOLD, Maclagan, Other
10 articles 34 photos 20 comments

Favorite Quote:
"Don't dream your life, live your dream."

People come up to me, constantly asking this one question… it comes in many forms, but in the end, it’s just the same…

Why do you always wear black?

A black scarf

a black tear painted on my face

So why is it that I always wear black you ask? (I don’t blame you… everyone asks)
I’ll tell you. Just promise not to give me those looks, the eyes of pity and sympathetic smiles… I don’t want them thanks.

First, I’ll tell you that I’m not clinically depressed… nor do I hate colour… in fact, I quite like colour (if you saw the tie-dye in my closet! Haha). No, the truth is, I’m grieving. Grieving the loss of two of my closest, most dear friends. Krystal and Sarah. But before I continue, I suppose I will tell you a little about us, since I’m letting you into one of my deep dark emotional boxes. I don’t open these boxes often… I just lock them up and send them deep deeeeeeep down inside.
Here is our story.

Krystal, Sarah and I met in 2nd grade when my family moved and I started at the local primary school, after the initial shock of a girl like Krystal actually talking to an outcast new kid like me, things got fun! I was introduced to Sarah and soon Krystal, Sarah and I were inseparable! We did everything together and were best friends. (Nice way to start at a new school don’t you think?)
However, good things rarely last and guess what? I moved again. 2hours north and that’s my new home. New school. New people. I want my old people back! We wrote letters and called each other constantly.

High school. With the rush of harder school work, boys and busy lives we started drifting apart… the letters slowly came to a stop and phone calls dulled to once or twice a month. The thing is, throughout all this, every time we talked, it was like there was no distance, as if I was on a holiday and would be home soon to see them.

It was on one of these phone calls that I heard the news, I had rang Krys desperately missing my blondie bestie only to have no one answer; no problem, I’ll try again tomorrow. However, in the pit of my stomach, something felt wrong. Dismissing the thought I rang Sarah, she answered on the first ring and was rather distressed.

Amongst tears she told me that our dear Krys is dead. Dead. The word echoed through my head, bouncing around as I refused for it to be true. I knew it was. I asked what happened and you know what? She yelled. Yelled at me for not being here for her, for Krys. Yelled at me for missing the funeral (it was that day. I hadn’t heard.) She yelled a lot. I yelled back. She hung up on me.
Regret. I regret not being there for Sarah and Krys. I regret that Krys’s family moved before I could contact them. I regret that that was the last conversation I ever had with Sarah.
No one else knows how Krys died because no one else knows her, not here in this dry anti-social place we moved to. It was just Sarah. I called here quite a few times over the next few months she never answered. When her sister or another family member answered, they would sigh as Sarah called out that she wasn’t home, she doesn’t want to talk to me, and apologetically inform me that she wasn’t ready yet. I gave her time and left her alone, but she was one of my closest friends and I refuse to give up on her until she tells me herself to go away. I knew she would crack and talk to me, she always does.
After one and a half months, I called again. Her mother answered and burst into tears when I asked to speak to Sarah.
She was dead.
Did you hear that? That was my heart shrivelling up to a pulp.
So you ask why I wear black? You ask why I cry a lot? You ask why I separate myself sometimes, just to be alone?

I wear black out of mourning. Grief. Love for my two best friends.
I cry because I loved them and will continue to love them. I hope, one day, I’ll see their beautiful faces again in heaven.
I like to be by myself sometimes because little things remind me of them and I’m still trying to accept it.
Does the pain ever go away? No. It just gets tolerable.

It’s been 17days since I found out Sarah was dead. 9 months since I found out about Krys. And the rest of my life to remember them until we meet again.
I love you, you beautiful spunky girls!

The author's comments:
Love and pain go hand in hand, in this case, loss joins the party.

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