Hello, Goodye

Hello,

How are you?

That's good. I'm glad you're feeling great.

At least that's one of us. I could say I'm okay,

but, if

I'm being honest...I'm not.

Like. At. All.

But...I mean, who is

these days?

Anyhow, I just wanted to 

check in. See that smile of yours. See your eyes

light up. God, I love your eyes.

Like melted chocolate (yum!). Or the soft coat of a baby deer (you did always love Bambi).

The color of the most delicious coffee, which I know you can't live without. 

And don't forget the caramel swirls. Or the bronzy-gold flecks that sprinkle your iris then branch out to drift in the chestnut pool of your eye. 

Exotic. Captivating. Warm. Humble. 

You've always been the complete opposite of me. But I guess that's why we're best friends. Opposites attract. 

Pretty as hell. No...gorgeous. And graceful. Skinny but with all the right curves. Sculpted from the finest materials on Earth. 

Like a waterfall, rich dark hair spills down your back. Freckles

thrown across your nose like 

copper dust.

You're like the sun, the brightest thing in this universe, radiating

so much warmth and life. You walk into the room 

and everyone smiles 

because you graced them with your presence. 

Beautiful, absolutely beautiful.  

Like a freaking Greek goddess. Like, damn!

Did you know all that?

Probably, who am I kidding? Mirrors are everywhere.

Store windows, the shiny surface of your car hood. School bathrooms, 

where girls are always fixing their make-up. 

But they don't even need make-up 

because they are 

so. freaking. pretty. 

I try my best to avoid them. The mirrors, I mean. 

Which you already know, being my best friend. 

You once asked me why I do that.

I never answered.

But why would I look in the mirror if all I see is

a reminder of how hideous I am?

Of all the things I'm not? What I could never be.

Humans are selfish creatures.

We run away from anything that denounces our perfection. 

I love you, don't get me wrong but...

next to you...I'm like the ugly mushroom that grew 

next to Rapunzel's flower. 

Sometimes I wish to be you. Other times I wish

for you to be me just so you can feel what it's like to be ugly for once. 

That sounds horrible, I know.

I'm a Slytherin, what else do you expect from me?

But it's time for me to tell the truth.

Since that is the least I owe you. 

I 

hate

me.

I 

hate 

you.

I 

hate

everything.

This world is not nice. It is mean, evil. Even uglier than me.

This world runs you over like Grandma at Christmas time. But it's even worse because it just leaves your body for the vultures that pick

and fight over the best parts of meat. 

And I don't have any. 

I mean, I have plenty of meat, but none of it is any good. 

It's rotten.

I am being choked, crushed alive by the chains

of expectations. Of this whole world.

I'm not smart. My grades are worth less than dirt.

I can't seem to do anything right. My parents are disappointed in me (did you know they wanted a boy? Yeah. 

Instead, they got me. The only faith they had in me was to become beautiful, like you. 

But I became an ugly as hell girl. Like, I failed the most important test from birth and it only got worse). 

Nobody loves me. Not even 

you. 

And when you say you do, I can't believe it.

Do you know why?

Because how am I supposed to believe others

love me, when I can't 

even love 

myself?

It's impossible.

I can't...I...

I can't breathe. Or eat. Or get out of my bed sometimes. 

I'm drowning. Dying of thirst. 

I can't do this anymore.

I thought I could. I tried. 

I smiled, I laughed.

Then

I cried, I screamed. 

I'm numb, but I feel so much. 

It's all too much, but I'm getting nothing at all.

I'm so sorry.

For being jealous.

Mean.

Hateful.

Boring.

Stupid.

Careless.

Difficult.

Selfish.

I'm sorry.

For being a failure.

For existing. 

I'm sorry. So, so, so, sorry. 

For everything.

You know, I went to Google. We had a nice chat. 

Do you know the word "depression"?

Yeah...I think I'm that. 

Depressed.

When I think of that word, I think of the color blue. Like,

a dark faded blue. Or the color

of Eeyore. (Did you know all of the Winnie the Pooh characters were based on mental illnesses?! Eeyore symbolizes depression.) 

But when I drag this piece of glass across my wrists, all the sadness

and emotion I've felt itching under my skin tumble out in rivers of red. 

I guess depression isn't blue. 

Who knew?

You know, I don't feel anything. Just release. Like a balloon, letting go 

of the air that filled it. 

Or, I guess that's my lungs, struggling to breathe. 

That's all I've done. 

Struggle. 

And finally, I get to rest. 

It's quite wonderful. 

Anyway...

I'll miss you, Bestie. 

Maybe you won't miss me, maybe nobody will.

They probably won't. (I wonder if anyone will be at my funeral?)

Hmm...I'd like to be buried in the rain.

At least then the heavens will be crying for me.

Like anyone else will. 

And maybe have some violets. I love violets. Place one in my hand before they lower the casket, okay? Thanks, girl!

I can always count on you. Everyone can. You're just that kind of person. 

People tell you their secrets because you'll keep them. You're not like those other girls who

gather secrets like bundles of flowers and spill

them at their nightly tea parties. 

And...I know this will be hard for you. (Maybe)

But...years from now...when you think of me (if you ever do)

can you smile?

At least a little. Then I promise not to haunt you. 

I hope, when you think of me, you'll forgive me. 

For my faults. For this. 

For everything. 

Heck, maybe name your first daughter after me.

I'd like that. 

Anyway, my stop is coming up. I should probably get ready to get off the bus, huh? 

I'll see you later, yeah? Okay,

Goodbye.