Fueled by Looking for Alaska and The Fault in Our Stars both by John Green and Thirteen Reasons Why by Jay Asher. Life, Existence and Death.
I sat at one of the front chairs, more or less three meters from the shining polished black box, which is kind of inappropriate since I’m not a part of the family, even so, I did. I thought it might be open, though I dare not look at what’s inside, because I know it’s something I don’t want to see, lifeless, unmoving, I don’t want to know what she looks like when she’s dead, “I’d rather wonder than get answers I cannot live with,” another thing is that the sight might imprint itself to my memory and haunt me through my wandering in this labyrinth of pain. I didn’t really know what happened, but we were together before she drove her way out of this labyrinth of suffering “straight and fast.” A thought occurred to me, they always said make the most of what life offers, they forgot to say suffering is a part of what life offers. Her father refused to inform us of her death, another oath taken by her father from her younger self after a traumatic experience, apart from not letting them, in this case, us, to see her dead. I bloody well know she’s not ill that day; I could feel that, until her mood swings suddenly struck, she became deeply pissed from being very happy.
Suicide. There could be no other cause of death she might have suffered. Yes, I think that’s it, even if it’s painful. That’s just it; I can sense her saying, “deal with it.” I thought suicidal tendency would manifest symptoms, then again, maybe she knew, the Snowball Effect, besides, she’s a smart girl; maybe she forbade symptoms to manifest themselves, that way we won’t be alarmed or maybe she’s just selfish keeping problems to herself, she didn’t have to roll onto herself and self-destruct.
I mentally recalled what I read about suicide in the net when I myself was feeling suicidal, but that was before. First, people with suicidal tendencies threaten people of committing suicide which clearly, she didn’t; she’s just a hell of a bipolar. Second, euphoric recovery from extreme depression, I mulled it for a moment. No, she’s just a hell of a bipolar. Third is piling up meds, wait, I haven’t even entered her dorm room in the six months I knew her, I left that, maybe her father would consult us, if he ever discovered something, which he didn’t, so it’s not feasible, I guess. Fourth, giving away possessions, well, she gave me a pen, but that would be irrelevant, she gave it to me because “It’s yours, I can see your bacteria in it,” basically I borrowed it, so that don’t count. Fifth, pondering or talking about dying, I don’t know, I never really knew her that deeply.
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