Last Regrets
It finally happened.
I guess the way I said that makes it almost sound like I wanted it to happen, so let me get this out of the way; I never wanted this. I knew when I heard there was a problem way back when that brain tumors don't end happily. In freshman year, Megan always said that the doctors told her something was probably wrong with her brain. I thought it was a joke back then. We studied for tests together, kicked the rest of the class's sorry stupid butts in Science Quiz games to study, played volleyball Chiyo and Osaka style in PE, "ran" a mile in what we will pretend was fifteen minutes...
I promised Megan I'd teach her to draw. She said she had given up, but wanted to colour my art. I promised her that she would be my official colourer last year, in the tenth grade. But I never got around to drawing the lineart of a pretty girl with long, flowing hair, a beautiful dress and tons of pretty jewels.
Then she got really sad. Her creative writing poems and short stories were about people killing themselves.
I got worried.
Not long after, she went to the doctor for another check up; her leg had been bothering her, and I'd been showing off the skills I get from being a sports medicine doctor's daughter by wrapping it up and helping her walk without putting weight on it.
She never came back.
A week later, I was told she was in Duke with a possible brain tumor, but they would get it out and she'd come back to school. Our teacher said he'd send any get well cards we made to her for us. I made one. It was really pretty because my sister helped. We tore up old magazines and I drew a girl like Megan wanted on the card.
But I forgot to bring it.
And I told myself I'd send it to her.
But a rumor started.
And people assured me it wasn't really a brain tumor, and Megan was ok.
But she never came back.
Megan helped me make a friend, Evie, in the 9th grade. Evie was always really emo and depressed, so when she suddenly got uber depressed in August, I thought she was just stressed out.
Kasey said she was really worried, because Evie had lost someone important and wanted to kill herself.
Naturally, I worried, but I never made the connection. My glorious "Anika Amnesia", as I call it, struck again. Anika Amnesia is some weird thing I have where, if something bothers me a lot, I forget it. In the case of Anika, when I heard "Anika James" and "Died" in the same sentence, I completely forgot the cheerful girl who I had (guess what!) promised a picture of a pretty girl in a pretty dress with pretty jewels.
Who then got dumped by her boyfriend.
And who considered suicide.
Who put a dog collar around her neck to prove she was serious.
Then had second thoughts a bit too late.
When the collar was on too tight and her perfect suicide plan went into action.
I miss you, Anika.
I'm really sorry I couldn't draw your picture.
I'm sorry I forgot you so I wouldn't get hurt.
I'm sorry you died. I wish I could've helped you cheer up, like how you cheered me up.
I'm sorry I missed your funeral, too.
I was so scared. I didn't want to admit you'd died.
And now it's been a year, and I'm still so so sorry.
And I'm sorry, Megan.
I never drew you that picture. I promised you so many times, didn't I?
I made you that card and then never gave it to you.
I never gave you a picture to colour.
I never taught you to draw, either. I was lazy. I thought I'd have you around forever.
We were going to graduate together and you were going to get a better than your Ex, who is still really nice to me.
I never once thought you'd actually die.
Well, I did. I knew, deep down, that a brain tumor was bad. Mom even told me that it would probably end bad.
I'm so sorry, Megan.
I'm sorry.
I'm really sorry.
I'm sure when you died you hated me, didn't you? Because I promised you so much, and I never gave you anything.
Not even a get well card.
You hated me so much that you never told me you had a brain tumor yourself.
You never told me you were leaving the school, or the country.
And when you died, I only found out because of your memorial service.
And I didn't even attend it! I got scared again!
This is the second year. I lost another friend. I'm so scared, because at the rate things are going, I'll lose another next year.
*** is smoking again.
*** smells like drugs.
*** is depressed.
*** has a crush on me and I can't return her feelings.
*** too.
*** is probably still being mentally abused.
***'s mom had a stroke and her step-dad kicked her out the house.
*** is depressed and out of state, where I can't give her hugs.
And all I can do is watch.
Because I'm too scared.
I'll just watch and, come next year, have more regrets.
What am I supposed to do?WARNINGS:
I'm feeling very emo