when i didnt see her, when she didnt show up to school i felt my heart skip a beat. because perhps, maybe, though i dread it, ,this may be the time when she doesnt show up ever again.

I hav always been morbid, yesm, i have and i always shall be, but no matter how fascinated i am with death, i cherish life. Mostly the life of others, of the people that I love.

I am afraid that one day she will not show up.

perhaps she is gasping for air on her kitchen floor

maybe food poisoning

perhaps her hosue was broekn into

maybe she jsut didnt wake up, died in ehr sleep

maybe she is in the hospital

but the truth is, few of those are likely, and none are what i am afraid of. The vision in my mind is of her, laying on the floor in her room with blood falling otu of her sliced veins. That is what I am afraid of. All the cuts on her arms, what if she cuts too deep, jsut once. Oen slice, then another, vertical down the length of the vein, the passage. I can see it.

A husdder is resting at the base of my neck as I wonder if she is dead this time. If this is the time when she has killed herself.