Before The Sun Goes Down

Frank's POV
“Frank, I need you to talk to me,” I shake my head, looking down and crossing my arms. “You aren't going to get better if you keep shutting people out.”
“I don't care.” Stacey sighs and the room is quiet for a minute.
“Frank, I'm not going to give up on you. I'll sit here for however long it takes.”
“You'll be sat there for a long time, then.” I shift in my seat and my sleeve rolls back slightly. And, when that happens, I see my scars. They're thick and a faded pink. There are more of them up my arm, but these ones are the worst. They were the thickest and the deepest.
I pull my sleeve down over my hand, grimacing.
“Frank, please,” I shake my head, refusing to talk. “Why?” I glance at her, shrugging.
“I just don't want to.”
“I understand, Frank. But, sometimes you have to,” I shake my head.
We sit in silence for a while longer, but then there's a knock on the door. Both of our heads look over to it and Stacey stands up.
“Come on in.” A doctor walks in and looks at me.
“You have a visitor, Frank.” My eyebrows shoot up.
“Really? Who?”
“Mikey Way.” I gulp, shaking my head.
“No, it's not. He hates me, why would he want to visit me?” The doctor shrugs, looking at the door and then back at me.
“I don't know, he just wants to speak to you.” I stand up, my legs trembling
“Lets go, then.”
We walk to the visitor lounge, me trailing behind. I don't look up when we walk in, I just follow him to a table.
“I'll leave you to it, then.” I look at him, almost shaking my head. Instead, I sit down and glance at Mikey. He's staring right back at me, his eyes glazed over.
“Frank.” His voice makes me jump. It's low and hoarse.
“Mikey?” He presses his lips together and studies my face.
“How are you?” I narrow my eyes slightly.
“I'm, uh, good, I guess. How are you?” He shrugs, looking down.
“I've been better.” I nod, and silence takes over.
“Uh, Mikey, why are you here?” I break the silence after around five minutes, and he looks up at me. And he laughs.
“I don't know, really,-” He stops talking suddenly, and he takes a deep breath. “I'm sorry.”
“What for?” He glances around us, leaning in.
“For being a dick. It wasn't your fault there was the fire, that I got beat up,” He pauses, looking down. “That mom died.” His voice is lower now, it sounds more hurt.
“Why the sudden change of heart?” He shrugs, looking back up at me again.
“I've wanted to come and say sorry over since mom's funeral. I just... I haven't had the guts to come, I guess. I've felt terrible for everything I've said and I've done, Frank.” I nod at him.
“I'm sorry, too. For attacking you, for being crazy, for Donna dying.” He thinly smiles at me, nodding back.
“Friends?” He asks. I shake my head, making his face fall.
“Brothers?” He smiles at me, widely, and he nods.
“Brothers.” I smile back at him, my eyes stinging slightly.
“How are you healing up, Mikey?” He shrugs.
“It's going good. My jaw hurts, but I've not really had much pain from anything else. I had my leg cast took off the other day.”
“Well, it has been awhile, I guess.” I shift slightly in my chair, leaning closer to him.
“Yeah, it been almost three months,” I try and contain my surprise, but I fail. “Wait, you don't know how long it's been?” I shake my head, a small smile on my lips.
“I don't really have to keep the time or date in here,” I shrug. “So, twelve weeks? I thought broken bones only took, like, six weeks to heal and whatever?”
“It normally does, but this was a real bad brake, apparently. Much worse than they originally thought, so it took them longer to fix it and everything. Having to have crutches for this long almost killed me... They're really difficult to walk on when you have two broken arms, but I didn't want a wheelchair.” He makes gestures while he talks, only little ones, but they remind me of Gerard all the same.
“Right...” He nods. The conversations lulls then, and I desperately try to think of something to say. I want to ask him about Gerard, but I'm afraid I'll sound crazy. I almost ask him, but he speaks instead.
“How are you doing, Frank? How is this all going?” I shrug, shifting uncomfortably.
“Um... Good?” He rolls his eyes at me, shaking his head.
“Don't lie, Frank.”
“I don't know how it's going. I can't really remember anything, Mikey. I'm too tired and the pills they give me make me feel numb.” He's silent for a second, looking at my face.
“I heard about what happened to your arms and legs.” I look down, my cheeks flaming in shame.
“Great...”
“It made me ill, actually. I couldn't eat properly for a while they told me, because I was so worried about you.” I look back up to him, but he's staring at the table.
“I'm sorry, Mikey. I.. I don't know what came over me, I just... flipped.” He nods, still looking at the table.
“It's okay, Frank. I just want you to get better so you can get out of here. I miss you, y'know?” I nod, biting my lip.
“I miss you, too.” He smiles slightly at me, only one corner of his mouth lifting up. He glances at his watch, his smile turning into a frown.
“I have to go, Frank. I'll see you soon, okay?” I nod, standing up as he does.
“Sure, Mikey. Goodbye,” He nods, awkwardly patting my shoulder.
The door is already open for him, and he goes. I get escorted back to Stacey's office, where she's waiting for me with a present.
“You know, you missed Christmas?” I nod, sitting down.
“I know. It was weeks ago, wasn't it?” She nods, sliding the wrapped box over to me.
“I had this for you, but I haven't seen you much, so I thought I'd give it you now.” I look at the box, wondering what it could be.
“What is it?” She smiles, shrugging.
“Open it and see.” I grab the box, pulling off the ribbon and wrapping paper. I open the box, finding a large black-covered book. I look at Stacey, raising my eyebrows. She smiles at me, gesturing towards the box.
“What is it?” I repeat my question, but I only get a smile in return.
I pull out the book, seeing a little golden plaque on the near the bottom of the book. It has my name engraved in it. I pull open the little clasp and open it, coming to the first page. Stacey's wrote a message on it, but there are other ones as well. One from Ray, Bob, Mikey. And Donna. Stacey's says:
Happy Christmas, Frank! I hope you don't mind, but I found your friends and got them to write a few messages and things for you! Keep your chin up, Frank.
Mikey's says:
Merry Christmas. I don't know if you'll actually get this on Christmas, but who cares? I'm sorry, Frank. I've been a dick and I'm sorry. I'm proud of you, Frank, and so would Gerard and mom be, too. You're strong, okay? Keep it up, love you.
Ray's says:
Happy Holidays, you bastard. Man, I haven't seen you in forever! When can we visit you? This is short, I know, but I'm terrible at messages and stuff. I miss you, man!
Bob's says:
Hey, Frankie. I miss you, when can I visit you? It isn't the same around here without you, you know.
Donna's says:
Frank, I know you know I'm ill, and I know I'm writing this message ages before Christmas. Stacey found me before she even started working with you, but she's been wanting to work with you and help you you ever since you came to Montcromary. I love you, Frankie, and I wish you the very best in life after you get out of here. I'm sorry I won't be there with you to see it, but I would've loved to be.
Don't give up, okay? When I die, when something else happens, when you feel like giving up. Just don't do it. It'll get better, it always does. Give it time and patience.
You're like my son, and I love you, Frankie.
I choke up on the messages, but Donna's is the hardest to read. I look at Stacey, and she hands me a tissue. I wipe my eyes with it and look back down at the page, re-reading them.
“Carry on, Frank.” I glance at her, then turn the page. It clicks when I turn the page what it is, it's a photo album.
There are two photos on this page. I'm very little, and my mom's in them both. I have a smile on my face on the first one, a little-baby smile and mom's holding me and smiling down at me. The other one is me and her again, but this time she's smiling at the camera and I'm asleep in a pushchair. We're outside, and it must only be a few months after I was born, because it looks cold.
As I flip through the album, I get progressively older. There are school photos in there, party photos, my earliest passport photo. I'm three quarters of the way in, but I have to stop and look away. I'm already kind of crying, because I've seen quite a few photos that I thought got lost or whatever, but the photo I just found is the last my mom and I ever had together. It was when we first moved into the house across from Gerard's.
In most of the others, she's smiling but they aren't always real. But, this one is definitely real, and she's glowing with happiness. We had the camera on timer, because no-one else was there to take a nice photo. I'd fallen over on my way to where mom was standing after setting the timer. Mom, in the photo, is laughing really hard, and so am I. I'm still sprawled on the floor, near her feet, and she kind of has a hand extended to help me up but she wouldn't have been able to help because she was laughing so hard. I can see a tear on her cheek from the laughter, and she's doubled over. Her eyes are half-closed, and she looks beautiful.
There are still unpacked boxes around us, and we're in our pyjamas. It's possibly the best and worst photo in here that I've seen, because it's the happiest one of her, but it's also the saddest photo. We didn't get another one of us together, unless we accidentally photo-bombed someone, somewhere.
I turn the page quickly, and there's a silly group photo of me, Gerard, Mikey, Bob and Ray. I'd forgotten about this one. It was taken on the night Bob first came round Gerard and Mikey's for the music project thing.
The next photos are either group photos or stupid ones someone took to make everyone laugh. Me and Gerard are in quite a few, just us. We're laughing together, talking, holding hands, kissing. I don't know who took them, but they're some of my favourite photographs in the album. We look so at ease and happy with each other. In one of them, an up-close shot, Gerard and I are holding hands and we're looking wide-eyed at the camera. There's surprise in our eyes, but you can also see the love and happiness.
The last one of us altogether is when I was in hospital. Even Mark is in it. I'm not sure who's taking it, but we obviously don't know, because none of us are smiling or even looking in the camera's direction. It was when Gerard and I got married, and me and him are hugging, while Donna looks at us with tears in her eye. It's a beautiful photo, and aside from the one with my mom and I in it, is my favorite.
I close the book, keeping silent for a second while I collect myself.
“Thank you, Stacey.” I look at her, smiling. She shakes her head, smiling back. It's a sad smile, and she has tears in her eyes, too.
“Don't worry about it, you're more than welcome.” I sniff, looking back down at the album.
“How did you get all those photos? They're beautiful.” She nods.
“Apparently your mom thought so, too, because she kept them in a fire-proof safe. They managed to survive the fire, and Donna had added to the collection. Mikey helped me make it, by the way.” I smile again, nodding.
“When did you get Donna to write the message at the beginning?”
“A few days before she died, Frank. She came to me, actually. She knew I was interested in your case, so she came to me and talked to me about things. I told her I was interested in doing something nice for you for Christmas, because I knew I'd be helping you by then, and she helped me out by giving me some ideas and things.”
“Why did you want to do my case?” She shrugs.
“I don't know... I think I wanted to be the reason you were able to have a good life. A stable life. So much has happened to you, Frank, and most of it you probably don't even remember. As soon as I were able to look at your file, I was in.” I nod, studying her face.
“Why did you want to do this for me when you didn't even know me?” I lean forward, and she shrugs.
“Again, I don't know. I just did, I guess,” She smiles at me, shrugging again. “How did your visit with Mikey go?” I smile, thinking back to it.
“It went great. We're good now, we've said sorry to each other.” She beams at me, nodding her head.
“Good. You need all the support you can get, and so does Mikey. You've both lost some very important people in your lives,” I nod, looking down as I think back to everyone that has died. Which is just about everyone I know, apart from Mikey, Ray, and Bob. “Frank, can you remember what you said to the nurse just before you passed out?” I don't answer for a minute, then I nod. “What did you say?” I shrug, not looking up.
“I said that I...” I trail off, and clear my throat. “I wanted to die.” I glance up, and I see her nod.
“Yes, you did. Is that all you can remember? Can you remember saying anything before that?” I think for a second, then shake my head.
“No, I can't.”
“Nothing at all?”
“Well, I remember my mouth moving, but I can't remember saying anything or what I was supposed to be saying.”
“You can remember picking your stitches, though, can't you?”
“Kind of. Everything's blurry.” She nods, looking at me.
“You were talking about Gerard. I'm not sure why you started picking your stitches, or how you managed to pull them out that quickly, but you did. You were screaming nonsensical words when the nurse came in, but there were odd sentences about Gerard in between your screams. You said that he was talking to you, that he said he loves you, that he can't come and see you because he's dead,” My eyes are closed tight now, flickers of what happened coming back. “You were hysterical, all the way to the infirmary.”
“No, I wasn't!” I interrupt her, shaking my head.
“Yes, you were. When the nurse tried to help you stand up, you started flinging your arms around, making blood fly everywhere. Your walls were scrubbed and repainted, your bedding was incinerated and new ones were bought. You could barely walk, but you were under the impression that you were fine, weren't you?” I nod my head once, my eye still closed. A dull ache has settled behind my eyes.
“That's not what happened. I was calm, and I could walk fine. I might have been a little clumsy, I can't remember, but I was fine.” I open my eyes, staring at her. She slowly shakes her head.
“Frank, we've talked about this. You block things out. You see things differently to how they are when it happens.” I roll my eyes, leaning farther back in my chair.
“Yeah, yeah.”
“I want to trial you on some new pills.” I raise an eyebrow, shaking my head.
“No. No more fucking pills. All I do is take these stupid pills that don't even work! I'm worse than I was before.” She shakes her head, tutting at me.
“If you take these, I'll try and make them stop giving you the others.” Her offer stops me for a second, it surprises me.
“You will?” She nods her head, and I can't help but smile.
“I'll try.”
“You make them stop giving me the other pills, then I'll take your new ones.” She looks at me for a second, biting her lip. She sighs, nodding.
“Fine. Deal?”
“Deal.” She smiles at me, and I smile back.
We talk for a little while longer, Stacey asking odd questions- I think in hopes that I'd reveal a clue to anything I'm feeling- and me giving vague answers, but then a doctor comes and collects me.
“Come with me, Frank.” I give Stacey an eye roll, and sigh while I'm getting up.
“I'd just love to.”
I trudge after him, down the winding corridors. We get to the infirmary.
“In here, please.” I stop for a second, looking at the dude with an eyebrow raised.
“Why?” He doesn't look back as he answers.
“We have some cream that can help with your scars.” A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth, and I carry on following him.
He leaves as soon as he's told he isn't needed, and I'm asked to sit down.
“Now, I understand that you have scars on your arms and legs?” I nod, looking down at my covered legs. “I'm going to have to ask you to take off your pants, Frank.” I sigh, standing up and pulling them down.
“What are you going to do?” I sit back down, subconsciously covering my legs with my arms.
“Just apply some cream to the affected areas. Could you move your arms, please?” I slowly move them, looking away. “I'd say, judging by the size of the scars, that it'll take a few weeks of applying this to make them fade.” She smiles at me. I nod back, giving her a fake smile.
“How often will it have to be put on?”
“Everyday. After a while, you'll be able to do it yourself, but for now you have to be supervised.” I roll my eyes, huffing.
“Because you guys don't trust me.” She purses her lips, but doesn't answer. Instead, she turns around and puts on gloves, and gets the cream.
“If I can do your arms, I'll let you do your legs,” I nod, rolling up my sleeves and holding out my arms. I look away while she does it and roll them down straight after. “It's a shame about your tattoos... I bet they were lovely.” I nod, biting my lip.
“They were. I guess I'll have to have them fixed if I get out of here.” She nods, smiling.
“When you get out of here.” She fusses the 'when', and I almost shake my head.
“Yeah, okay.” She says nothing back, and hands me the cream.
“Just a thin layer over each one,” I squirt some out of the tube and hold it out to her. “Yeah, like that. Rub it in in circles.” I do as she says for both legs. The cream makes my legs tint blue.
“Done...” She turns around and glances at my legs.
“You sure are. Okay, put your pants back on and head down to the hall. It's dinner time, Frank.” My stomach starts churning at the mention of food, but I force a smile on my face.
It's not that bad. It's only food.
I pull on my pants and thank the woman, and head to the hall. It's only half full when I get there, so there's still a lot of the food on offer left. I chose the smallest thing, some unrecognisable soup, and sit at my table at the back.
I eat it slowly, taking all the time I need, and by the time I'm finished, there are only a dozen people still in here. None of them are eating, just talking or helping tidy up. I'm lucky, though, because the soup had no flavor to it, so it quelled my stomach somewhat.
I walk straight to my room, ignoring everyone on the way. When I get in, I see a glass of water and two sleeping tablets on the bedside table. I think about taking them for a second, I think about whether or not I'd be able to sleep if I didn't take them, and I decide to take them.
It take half an hour or so for them to kick in, but when they do, I'm out like a light, and I don't wake up until I hear someone calling my name.
“Frank, wake up. Breakfast time!” I lie still for a minute, then open my eyes. I get out of bed, groaning and stretching.
“I fucking hate waking up..” The orderly rolls his eyes at me, telling me to follow him.
I'm in quite a good mood, really. I manage to eat all of my breakfast without major problems, and I even manage a smile or two to people.
I decide to go outside for a while when I've finished eating, and a random orderly gives me a book. They also tell me to keep it, but I have to give it back to him every night, because I'm not 'ready to have anything like that in my room with me'.
I walk away, kind of cursing him, the hospital, myself.
“I hate it here, too.” The voice makes me jump, and I almost hit the person in the face.
“Fuck! What the hell?” It's a girl, perhaps a little younger than me. I can't see her face very well because she's looking down, but she has blonde hair, and she's taller than me.
“I'm sorry!” She looks up, her cheeks red. There's a huge bruise running from her temple down to her chin on her right side. It's purple, green, blue.
“Woah, what the fuck happened to your face?” She touches the bruise, ducking her head again.
“I happened.” My eyebrows furrow, and I take a few steps closer to her.
“You did this to yourself?” She nods, her cheeks flaming again. “How?” She shrugs, looking back up.
“I freak out a lot. Normally it starts out as a panic attack, but it can escalate pretty quickly. Like with what happened to your arms and legs.” I'm taken aback by this, and I'm silent for a while.
“How do you know about that?” She shrugs, a corner of her mouth lifting up.
“Everyone knows about it.” It's my cheeks that flame this time, and I look down.
“Yeah, well.... whatever. Anyway, you shouldn't just sneak up on people like that! I almost hit you!” She shrugs, smiling.
“But you didn't, and I was walking by your side for at least two minutes, trying to talk to you. You juts didn't notice.”
“Why do you want to talk to me?” She shrugs.
“You looked pretty angry, so I thought I'd make you smile.” I roll my eyes, shaking my head.
“Sure, okay. Good luck...” I turn around, continuing walking. “Bye!”
“Wait!” I hear her footsteps behind me, running.
“No. I want to be alone for a while.”
“But you're always alone!” Huffing, I stop.
“And I like it that way! If I wanted company, I'd have, at least, tried talking to someone!”
“Nobody likes to be alone for this long. You only talk to Stacey, or a few doctors, nurses or orderlies. Come on, Frank.” I shake my head, walking away again. I finally make it outside, but she's still following me.
“Leave me alone!” I turn to face her, throwing my hands up.
“Hey, who says I'm following you? I might be on my way outside, too.” At this, I roll my eyes and walk away, finding somewhere to sit. I sit on the grass, away from anybody else out here. Apart from the girl. She sits a few metres away from me, picking the grass.
For some reason, she makes me really annoyed. I shift away so I'm not facing her and try to read the book. The opening pages of it are terrible, so I lose interest pretty quickly. But, I force myself to carry on reading it, even though I find myself sneaking glances at the girl.
For some reason, she interests me. It may just be the bruise on her face, with all of its colours, but it may be something else. I don't even know her name.
Once or twice, when I look at her, she's already looking at me, and she looks away, blushing, when she sees that I'm looking at her. A few times I've seen her out of the corner of my eye open her mouth and then close it again, and look away.
After a few chapters, I have to put the book down. I look at the girl again, I look at her bruise. It takes away all of the focus from her other features, like her grey eyes, and makes you concentrate on it. And, if you stare at it for long enough, it almost starts moving.
I quietly sigh, making her look at me again. This time she keeps eye contact, even though she blushes. I smile at her, waving her over. She hesitates, her eyes turning a darker grey. Then, she moves over to me and sits close to me.
“What's your name? You know mine.”
“It's Jessica,” She pauses, rolling her eyes. “I hate it. It's so mundane. My dad chose it, and then three weeks later he walks out, leaving me with this stupid fucking name.” She shrugs, closing her eyes. When she opens then, they look clearer and lighter.
“My dad is dead.” I shrug at her, too, and she stares at me for a second.
“I'm sorry to hear that.” She smiles at me, her eyes lighting up.
“Don't be. He was a fucking bastard, anyway.” I shrug again, looking away.
“How did he die?” I feel her hand on my should and it takes all the willpower I can muster to not shudder or move it off of me.
“Do you really want to know?” I look at her, biting my lip. She nods, but I hesitate.”No, you don't.”
“I do. You just don't want to tell me. You think I'll judge you or something. What did you do, murder him?” I stiffen up as she chuckles. I stare at her with wide eyes, and she stops laughing. Her eyes widen, too, but the corner of her mouth stays curled up. “You actually murdered him, didn't you?” A hand goes over her mouth, but not because she's shocked, but because she's laughing.
“Why are you laughing?” She just shakes her head and carries on giggling at me. Finally, her giggles turn to an occasional chuckle, which then stops completely.
“How did you do it? You're tiny!” I roll my eyes at her, but I can't help a smile.
“I stabbed him, several times. Then, I set him on fire.” Her smile isn't there any more, and her eyes have turned darker.
“You did?” I nod. “Really?” I nod again. “Is that why your in here?” I shake my head, this time, sighing.
“I can't remember why I'm in here. Something happened and I flipped, I think.” Her eyes soften. Her eyes are really the most vocal feature about her.
“What happened? It must have been bad...” I shrug, remembering waking up and being told about Gerard. If that actually happened, that is.
“I don't know if it actually happened. My head is so confused about everything, you see. Apparently I have hallucinations, delusions. I'm not sure what I've imagined or what actually happened any more,” I pause, licking my bottom lip. “Apparently, when I was in kindergarten, I totally flipped out and hurt some kids and the teaching assistant or something. But, I couldn't remember doing anything like that until I thought really hard about it.” She nods, her eyes flickering around my face.
“So.... You have schizophrenia or something?”
“No. They don't know what I have; they can't diagnose me.”
“Okay...” She pauses, sighing. “That sucks. But... what do you think happened to get you put in here?” I look down, debating on whether or not I should tell her. I decide to take the plunge, and blurt it out.
“My boyfriend that had been dead for over a year went missing.” I peek at her, quickly looking away.
“You're gay?” At this, I burst out laughing. And I can't stop, not for at least five minutes.
“Yeah,” I pause, chuckling again. “From what I told you, that's the only thing you picked up on?” She grins at me, nodding.
“To be honest, I'm disappointed...” She shrugs, her cheeks tingeing pink.
“Why?” She hesitates in answering me, her cheeks reddening.
“Um... I don't know?” I bite my lip to keep from laughing.
“Have you got a, uh, crush on me?” She shrugs, her ears turning red.
“No! Of course I haven't! I... uh, I...” She falters, and I let a giggle escape. This makes her slap my arm, cursing me.
“Are you sure?” I grin at her, and she shakes her head.
“Fuck off! I barely know you!” I shrug, acting nonchalant.
“Okay, sure. Whatever you say.” We're silent for a minute, an easy silence.
“So, you've never kissed a girl?” I shake my head, looking at her.
“Nope. Only males.” She looks down, biting her lip.
“Well, would you like to try?” Her eyes meet mine, and her cheeks redden again. “I mean, uh, yeah...” She shrugs.
“Um? Like, as in, kiss you?” She timidly nods her head, her eyes not quite reaching mine now.
“Only if you want to. And, it would be totally platonic. I thought you might want to try it...” I think about it for a second, glancing at her and then back down to the grass.
“I don't know. I'm gay, I've never been attracted to any girl. And I love Gerard, even now.” She nods, her grey eyes disappointed.
“I understand.” We don't talk for a while after that, the uncomfortable silence making me fell guilty. I can't stand being guilty, so I almost relent. I question it a bit longer, but the silence becomes more crushing.
“It would be totally platonic? I don't want to lead you on or anything.” She starts at my voice, and she looks up at me. Then, she nods.
“I promise.” I hesitate, biting my lip.
“Okay, fine. One kiss.” She smiles before she can stop herself, and leans in slightly. I lean in, too, feeling ever so awkward. Our lips meet, and they softly move together for awhile. I pull away first, remarkably unaffected by it, but Jessica's eyes are bright and shiny.
Our eyes meet, but I look away, at the ground.
“I'm sorry,” She says, after a minute of silence. I look at her, my eyes questioning. “For making you kiss me.”
“You didn't make me, Jessica. Don't be sorry.” I smile at her, making her half-heartedly smile back.
“I'm going to go inside now. I'm getting cold and hungry. I'll probably see you some time tomorrow, though.” I nod at her, watching her get up and brush off the blades of grass on her clothes that she pulled out.
“Goodbye.” She smiles down at me, and I smile up at her.
“See you later, Frank.” She walks off, her long, blonde hair swaying in the slight breeze.
When she disappears out of sight, I close my eyes and sigh. I look up to the sky, finding the sun setting. More time must have passed than I originally thought. A lot more time. I've missed lunch, and I've probably missed dinner.
The sky is light up in brilliant oranges, yellows, pinks, and reds. A dark, deep purple is crawling slowly over the colors, setting the pretence of what color the night sky might turn out to be. I watch the sun swiftly disappear, taking the bright colorings with it.
Still no-one has called me in to eat, and I'm grateful. I'm not hungry and I don't think I'd be able to stomach eating after what happened with Jessica.
Slowly, stars start to appear. The sky turns to a deep blue in places, purple in others. The night gets colder, but not unbearably so. The moon appears, full and ghostly. I can see the dark splotches of the craters from here. I wish I had a camera, because everything is so beautiful, right in this moment, and I would like to take pictures, so I can look at them every time I feel like giving up to remind myself that I could see another sunset like that, or another night like this.
These are the things that we should strive to live for. Unexpected, beautiful moments. Moments where you're laughing with your friends so hard that your stomach hurts and your mouth feels like it might just fall off. Moments when you have that perfect kiss, one so full of love and passion that you could fly off of the power. Moments where you're driving in the car at night, and the sky is so clear and bright and wonderful, and the right song is on, and the person that you love is sitting right next to you.
Moments that makes you want to live. Not just exist, not just crawl along just existing, but actually live. You shouldn't want to die, nobody is born to want to die. We're all made to live, that's why our bodies fight off diseases and infections so hard, that's why we can move, that's why we have natural instincts that ward us away from danger.
Our thoughts might tell us that we don't to live sometimes, but you can move past that.
Well, sometimes you can't, sometimes you do end up in a morgue with rope burns along your neck or open veins that only have air in them because you let all the blood out.
That doesn't mean you're weak, or selfish. That means that you fought hard, and every single bit of every single thing was screaming at you to just give up, so you did.
Just like I want to, just like I almost did.

Notes