I know many stories. Too many. The story I am about to tell is sad, and may upset you. This is my warning. Don’t read this if you like happy stories.
I should have know she would cry. I hated the thought. I told her I was her friend. I told her I wouldn’t be like them. I should have known she would go back to her old ways. I had done this to her. I should have told her. I wanted to apologize, but no amount of sorrow filled pleas well heal the scars on her wrists. What have I done? Why did I give her false hope? Why didn’t I tell her to run? I knew I would hurt her. Why did I let her open up? I looked at the letter one more time. All she had written on it was ‘I guess we can’t pretend airplanes are like shooting stars’. I knew what she meant. It just made things worse. I see her every now and again. She look so happy, and I’m glad she is. I just wish it was because of me like it use to be. You two make the perfect couple. Are you happy with him? Or are you faking that smile again? It doesn’t matter anymore. Good-bye.
That is what he wrote on his letter. She still wanted to be with him, but it was too late. He was gone.