On my way home I wondered if what my therapists said was true. Was she just a friend or she meant more? But then if she meant more I couldn't keep her in my fucked up life.
I drove home and there was no one. I opened the front door and went straight to my room . The pictures on the wall still haunted me. His presence was lacking but he was gone. He was supposed to turn 21 tomorrow . If he would be here he'd throw a grand party. He was loved by many people. I don't know why everyone else continued with life like nothing had happened. The mere fact that I was supposed to be in that car instead of him made me resent myself. It was supposed to be me not him.
