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I got a letter from Kim. A suicide note explaining everything that I would ever think of asking her, and stating why she chose death. After receiving the letter I quit drugs and stopped drinking, I stopped cutting myself. I know that she will always be out there waiting for me, somewhere, in a different universe; I know that she is alive, and one day I will die and meet her in a different life, in an entire different world. Kimberly Kazuko Yoshida, the love of my life, killed herself because she was pregnant.
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I loved her, and I would’ve kept the baby. I could handle whatever people said. We could’ve gotten married, I could’ve moved over to the mainland and we could’ve raised our child together. We would be so happy, and it would be perfect for us, just perfect if she hadn’t killed herself.

Life continues to move on though, slowly, but surely. The days are so long now. Without her life seems so dim and all my music sounds so depressing, even my happy songs sound sad.
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Depression has weakened me, I quit football, and I just couldn’t handle it after Kim. It was super hard in the first place, but I just couldn’t handle it after what happened, it was too much too fast. With Les dying in that car crash and Kim doing that to herself, it was impossible for me to handle all of that emotionally.
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Everyone seems so concerned but they’re not, nobody cares anymore. Not Megan, not my parent’s, nobody. They all get mad at me because I don’t talk or eat or go out anymore. None of them have a clue about what happened though, only Megan, she’s the only person that I can really pour my soul out to. She knows almost everything about me. She knows why Kim died; she was the first person I told. She knows enough about me to write a book about me, and she probably knows more about me than I would admit. She probably knows that I used to like her too. She cried with me, but she never embraced me, and I didn’t want to lose a friendship that took so long to build up so I didn’t try to hug her either. It would’ve helped so much though. Just knowing someone’s out there, feeling exactly how you do helps a lot, but being there for someone is so much better than knowing that someone’s hurting just as bad as you are. The security that comes with a hug, the feeling that you’re safe is cherished when you’re depressed, coveted even. Leslie would’ve cared. She would’ve been the first to hold me, to help me get out of this terrible state of pain that I’m in now, but she’s gone too.
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“If I Ever Leave This World Alive” by Flogging Molly played when I turned my radio on, and I thought, wow, this is cool, they never play this song on the radio. Maybe it’s just chance that Kim was a Buddhist and they’re playing this song when I’m thinking about her, but that would be a pretty slim chance. Still, I was happy that they played the song, but depressed because I was thinking about Kim.
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It’s hard for me to think, to concentrate on anything. I am blinded by depression and I can’t do anything about it. I go to San Diego more often now, it’s getting really expensive, but I can see Ashley and all my other friends over there. Thalia is always really happy to see me everytime I go, and I suspect that she likes me, but I’m not ready for another relationship yet.
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It’s been about a month already and I still cry myself to sleep. I’ve tried to kill myself but I can never bring myself to do it, I still cut myself though. Short deep cuts are all that I need to satisfy me, to get me out of this deep blue low and into the high white above me. Sometimes I forget Kim, just for a moment, but then I see something or smell something and her motionless, bloody image returns to my mind.
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The security pulled me out of fourth period today and took me to the office, then to the counselors because our principal wasn’t there at the time. It ended up being that the counselors had been the ones that wanted to see me in the first place.

“Hi, Keith,” said the freshman counselor, Ms. Wells.

“Hi.” I said.

“Keith, do you know why you’re here?” Her eyes were all seeing and impossible to look away from.

“No, Ms. Wells. Am I in trouble?”

“No, no. You’re not in trouble…” She assured. “Are you happy?”

“Yes… I think I am,” I lied.

“Are you sure? Because I know someone that is quite concerned about your well being, and that person says otherwise.”

“Who-”

“I can’t tell you that, but this person obviously really cares about you and doesn’t want to see you get hurt.”

“Was it Megan?”

“I can’t tell you that, Keith, but whoever it was…” She sighed and said. “Whoever it was this person cares, and that’s all that matters at this point. Okay?”

“Okay…” I knew it was Megan. She was the only one that would do this to me, and likely the only one that cares about me that much.

“Would you feel more comfortable if you knew more about me first? Before we talked?” She was psychic, she seemed to know exactly what I was thinking and her eyes just seemed to stare straight into my soul.

We just talked for a while, and she introduced me to another counselor, Ms. Anne, she was a bigger lady that seemed much kinder than Ms. Wells, I think it must’ve been her eyes. She had very kind, understanding eyes, and she was younger too, in her early thirties. I felt much more comfortable talking to her. Just getting to know the counselors made me feel better somehow, they had an aura about them. They just gave off good vibes.

“Now, Keith, school is about to end, and we both hope that you won’t do anything stupid over the weekend. Don’t hurt yourself, Okay?” Ms. Wells declared.

“Yeah, I won’t hurt myself. I’ll be okay.” The bell rang and we made an appointment for me to see them next Monday.
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I felt stoned, but I wasn’t. I was just zoning, and I couldn’t think or concentrate on anything. I wasn’t as depressed anymore, but I wasn’t anything near happy either, it was the happy medium. It was the area just between the blue and the white. It was the area where I lost all my senses. It was the area where I lost myself.
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My mom was mad at me today because I talk on the phone too much and I made our cell phone bills really high. It’s not my fault though, I need someone to talk to now, and I guess that’s what the counselors are here for, but it’s weird to talk to older people. I don’t think they’ll understand what I’m going through.

I don’t eat much anymore and I didn’t eat anything tonight. I cried in the shower, and again to sleep. It’s impossible not to when I don’t have Kim anymore, I miss her so much.
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The weekend crawled along. All I remember is sleeping. I don’t even remember what I said or did; all I remember was sleep and staying home.

I took a cab to Kim’s house today, I still had the key she gave me, and it still unlocked the doors. Her family decided to keep the house, and they let me go and leave as I please. I take care of the house because it’s one of my last connections to Kim, possibly my last connection to her.
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I quit drugs, but I couldn’t cope with Kim dying. So now I’m back on, and it feels terrible. I can get high for a little while but I can’t forget. Nothing can make me forget. Anti-depressants don’t help at all. And I don’t see why I even try anymore. Everything just seems so worthless.
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“I’m not saying you need to forget anything or anyone, just tell us what’s wrong. We were told that you were in a very hard situation and that you were having thoughts of suicide.” Ms. Wells said. “Keith, you know that suicide is never an option. You’re a smart kid, and you shouldn’t look towards suicide if you’re that depressed about something.”

I still hadn’t told them about Kim. I was waiting for the right moment, and I didn’t want to be there anyway. So maybe I just wouldn’t tell them and I would just live the rest of my life and try not to kill myself.

“You can tell us anything. Anything at all and it will never leave this room. We have a student counselor confidentiality policy, so we can’t tell anyone unless you tell us that you’re hurting yourself or if you’re threatening to or have hurt someone else.” The two counselors scanned me for a moment, and then continued, “Other than that, nothing ever leaves this room.”

So we talked, just talked, and Ms. Wells had to go to a meeting so Ms. Anne and I continued to talk. After the session I felt more acquainted with her, and I felt like I could trust her. I was planning to tell her everything in the next session we had, I felt like I could because I knew her personally now. I think I just needed someone to talk to, someone to let it all out to in person instead of over the phone.
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I felt as if I was being pushed out, into the sunlight, naked, with a million people watching. I just couldn’t tell her, and today it seemed like she were pushing me to tell. Ms. Anne just waited patiently for me to spill. Then she asked, “Would it be easier for you if you wrote it down instead of telling me out loud? I’m sure that would be easier for you.”

I thought about why I hadn’t done that earlier, it would’ve saved so much time. But then again I didn’t want to go back to math so I guess that was a good thing that I just wasted half an hour. Ha-ha, I thought to myself, I’m such a great kid. “Sure, that’d be a lot easier if I could. Do you have a piece of paper I could use?”

“Course I do.” She rummaged through her purse and produced a small notepad. “Here you go.” She handed me the white and blue notebook and I opened it and wrote. My girlfriend killed herself.

“Oh my god, Keith I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay…” I lied.

“Do you know why? Or is that too touchy right now? When did this happen?” She sounded genuinely concerned, but I didn’t feel any better.

“August 18.”

“I’m so sorry, it’s so recent. If you ever need someone to talk to I’ll be here, I’ll cancel what I’m doing if you really need me. Even if you need somewhere to just sit and think, or just to cry, you’re welcome to use my office. Sometimes you just need to let everything out, to just think for an hour.”

“I-” my voice cracked and my eyes started to water. I thought of her, and I couldn’t continue. Ms. Anne didn’t say a thing after that. I stopped right before the third period bell rang, and when it did she said,

“I don’t think you should miss two classes in one day, it’d look bad later.”

“Yeah, I know.” I said, “But I… Thank you, for just being there. That helps so much. Can we do this sometime next week too?”

“Sure, I’ll call you in. When is a good time for you?”

“I have P.E. fourth period, and that’s at the end of the day. Other than that I can meet you at lunch.”

“Lunch sounds good.” She smiled and I went to P.E. feeling better, but not great.

P.E. was the same as it always was, but people from my math class were asking too many damn questions. ‘Where were you in math?’ ‘Did you ditch?’ my answer to both questions was, ‘I was at the counselors, I don’t want to talk about it, it’s personal’ and ‘No, I’m not switching out of Algebra, it’s the same s*** we did last year and it’s like a review for me.’ It was so annoying because at least half the class asked where I was. A few people that asked weren’t even in my math class!
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Music helps me when I’m sad. Sad music makes me happy and happy music brings me down. Funny how that is really, I think that I feel good that other people are sad when they listen to sad music so I feel better about listening to it. Same goes for happy music, people are happy when they’re listening to happy music so it makes me sad that people are happy. It’s a real psychological problem of mine. It sucks.

I find that Flogging Molly and Meg and Dia help the most when I’m sad. They’re not sad bands but they have songs that make me feel good, like “Drunken Lullabies” and “Hug me”. I must have listened to those songs a lot because I can’t seem to get either one out of my head.
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My mom bought herself a puppy for her birthday. She’s a great dog and she’ll get really big eventually. The first thing I noticed though was that she had some of the same features as Leslie. Les was my best friend, or my childhood friend, either way she was a great friend. She died in a car accident recently, and she believed in reincarnation. I was devastated when it happened and that happened right before Kim. Leslie had light brown hair and beautiful brown eyes, the birthday dog had the same features. It might have just been a coincidence but I think she came back to me.
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Even though depression sickens and weakens me, I still felt inspired. I felt a sudden urge to write and to pick up my guitar and strum meaningless chords until sometime came to my head, until my inspiration was drained. I sat at my desk and began to write. Many hours later, I had before me the best and longest poem I have ever written, longer than “The Raven” by Poe and more beautiful than “Looking for your face” by Rumi. It felt good to let everything out. I heaved a sigh and fell to my bed to let sleep get the better of me.
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In my heart brews the perfect storm. Nothing can compare to it, it is the largest, deadliest hurricane not known. It is ripping me to shreds and I can’t handle any of it anymore. I thought I was making so much good progress but I have retracted all of it since the time I awoke. Suicide is no longer an alternative.

“You need to talk to someone,” my conscience stepped in.

“No, f*** you, I don’t need you.” I said to myself.

“You’re going crazy, Keith, you need to snap out of it and realize what’s happening to you. It’s not good for you.”

“I don’t care. I don’t-” My voice cracked and I broke down. It’s so hard for me to hide everything all the time. I can handle it school, but it’s so hard for me at home. I need to find a way to cope. I realized this as I fell into a deep sleep, I didn’t cry this time. My tear ducts were dry.
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“You should write her a letter.” Ms. Anne offered.

“Why? There’s no good that can come from that. I wouldn’t even know what to say, and it would feel awkward for me.” I said. “Writing a letter would just make me hurt more.”

“No, it’ll help, really it will. Trust me. I know you loved her very much and you wouldn’t want her to forget you. If she’s out there somewhere she’ll know that you’re writing for her and she’ll know what you’re saying. Then you can destroy it somehow. Burn it or rip it up. It will feel good for you to write your feelings down on paper so you won’t feel so alone.”

How did she know I felt alone? I have no idea, but she’s smart, she can read me like an open book. She knows that I’m depressed, weak, fragile… “Okay.” I said. “Maybe it’ll be good for me.”

“It will be. I know how you feel. I was in a similar situation before.”

I was mad at her, but not at the same time. She didn’t know how I felt! She hardly even knows me! But I don’t know her either, so she might’ve been in a similar situation. I ask, “How do you know?”

“I… I’m sorry it’s really hard for me to talk about him. But my brother died when I was in high school. I really loved him; he was my inspiration at the time.” Her eyes started to look glossy.

I stopped her. “It’s okay… I don’t want to know. I’m sorry I even asked… It was none of my business.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just hard for me to talk about it. I know I’m a counselor and all that crap but I still have a hard time talking about my periods of grief.”

“It’s o-” The bell for my next class cut me off. I heaved a sigh and started to get up.

“You can stay longer if you’d like. You look really hurt right now and I could try to help you somehow.”

“Thanks, but I wouldn’t want to miss math again. My teacher wouldn’t be very happy with me considering I’m one of her favorite students and I’ve missed class twice this week already. I’ll see you later… Thank you… I think I will write that letter.”
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I poured my heart and soul into that letter. It was nothing compared to Kim’s one though. When I finished, the paper was drenched. It was only two pages long but it said everything I meant to say to her. I didn’t know what to do with it. I felt like burning it would send it to her but I would have to be really ninja like to burn it, and I’m terrible at being sneaky. I decided to keep it until I had a chance to burn it. That would make me happiest and she would get it first if she hadn’t seen me writing it. I would burn the poem too. She would just adore the poem.
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What is love? Is it peace in the middle of a war, or being with your family? Is it attention or perpetual anesthesia? Marriage or luck? Never ending or always cut short? Love is probably one of the hardest emotions to describe, it is Heaven and Earth combined, it is the life force of all living things, it is what used to wake me up in the mornings and what drove me forward in the days. What I woke up to at night, and what I wrote countless songs and poems about. Kim was my definition of love. It finally seems that I have become the definition of love for another. All I have to do is decide if I love her back… She’s a great girl and I need to get away from my memories of Kim. I think she might, just maybe, help me forget… I picked up the phone and called Megan.