The Girl

Dear Agony

When I got home, my mom was outside, waiting. She was alone. I ran to her, apologizing for running away. She said it was okay, and hugged me. She hugged me so tight. I sobbed into her shoulder, apologizing over and over again. She hushed me and pet my hair like when I was younger. The last time she pet my hair and let me cry like that, it was when my dad died.
I can't remember how long we embraced, but it felt like forever. It was a small eternity to me, and I relished every minute of it. When I couldn't cry anymore, she let me go, and I went up to my room. I turned on my phone and saw a message. It was from Mourning Star. I opened it, confused. In it was a note, and a link. The link was to a music playlist, of her music. The note read: Hey, Mark. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I couldn't do it anymore. I'm done with this world. I just, can't do it anymore. If you want to know why, listen to these tracks, and look at the notebook I gave you.
Oh, yeah. The notebook. Mourning Star said that it was "not to be opened until I am told, or high school graduation, whichever comes first." Now I realized what it was. It was the meanings of the songs to her. Or, maybe, it's her suicide notes, to all her friends. I was tired. I didn't want to go through with it tonight. I'll wait for the weekend, so I can do it all at once. If I make it to the weekend, that is.