*SIDE NOTE*
I know some of you will for sure hate this, but just know this randomly popped into my head, and it's not meant to mean anything bad or imply anything. I'm just a lame writer who came up with a lame story that you have every right to hate to bits. You can hate me too if you like, if you don't already, whatever floats your boat. This is all fiction and every sentence means absolutely nothing of value to me anyway, I was just bored, and I thought "Ahh what the hell". So I wrote....
*END SIDE NOTE*

*MINI NOTE*
Haha, and yes I know the title is the title of a song from The Used ^-^ It has nothing to do with the song, I just like the title. Plus the band kicks ass
*END MINI NOTE*

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------



I gripped the pillow tighter. My fingernails, making puncture wounds in the plaid fabric. My living room kept going in and out of focus, black splotches were appearing, then disappearing, then re-appearing again. Then I started convulsing. My movements were no longer by choice, as I shook violently on my sofa. Actually when you think about it, this was all by choice. This was me taking the easy-out to my problems once again. Everyone would say “Typical Logan, just like his good for nothing father, gives up on everything else when it gets hard, why not just give up on life all-together. Pathetic.” Yes, I AM pathetic. I knew this already! That was why I was doing this! Now no-one will be bothered by me anymore. I won’t have to hear their apologies or any of their pity! I won’t have to be alone. I won’t have to feel hopeless when I let her down….

I began to grip the pillow with more force. It seemed the shaking was getting worse. Biting my lip I braced myself for the pain of my release, but there was none. The convulsions stopped, bringing to me, sweet unconsciousness…….

*INTRO*

Why are we here? What’s the point of life? Does everything happen for a reason? These are all typically asked questions in today’s society. Especially from today’s teenagers, for some, when there are no answers, they believe it is better not to even try at all. That maybe, just maybe, if they weren’t here, the world and everyone in it, some of whom they love and care about deeply, would be better off, if they weren’t alive. But what they don’t see, and sometimes can’t foretell, is the pain and the outcome of their actions for the people who love and cherish them. The loved ones who must learn to cope, and try not to sink in their own memories.....
Maybe Memories
A short story by K. Davidson

*END INTRO*



I stared blankly at the bowl of cereal my mother had set out for me. The cinnamon squares appeared to have grown soggy. You see, I had yet to even pick up my spoon. Right now all I was currently doing was absentmindedly watching a square float back and forth in the little pool of milk. Yes, I do know it is quite odd to stare at one’s cereal. But anything is better than thinking of him. Anything is better than thinking in general these days.

-sigh- Jerking myself from my diversion, I rose from the kitchen table, to dump my untouched cereal into the sink. I didn’t want my mother to get on my case for not eating again. I set the empty bowl back upon the table, making sure to set the clean spoon inside it. I’d practiced this routine many times now. Every day my mom would set out cereal for me to eat before I went to school, and everyday I’d pretend I’d eaten it. Everyday she’d ask if I’m doing alright. And everyday I’d reassure her “I’m fine mom” with such a convincing fake smile, I could win a freaking Oscar. Throwing my backpack over my shoulder, I trotted down the front steps, and started walking to school. It was raining, but I didn’t pull my hood up. The rain and I had come to an understanding of sorts. We both wanted everyone to feel as we feel; miserable, cold, and alone. Yes, the rain is one of the only things I understand anymore. The rain is there for me to wash away everything else. The rain had been there for me when they……
When he was buried….

I could remember it so well. How could I not? Those few days have played over and over in my head like some damn horror movie. I wish it had just been a movie, just some cruel un-thinkable film that I could press stop on and have the pleasure of knowing that never would, or could, ever happen to me. Then I’d go upstairs and call my angel, just so I could hear his voice. I wish it had been a movie, I wish Logan was here right now, holding my hand, walking me to school, strumming his fingertips across the top of my hand in a random rhythm, just like he always did.

I remember the first time he’d held my hand. We were sitting together in the old gym in our high school. We’d decided that 1st hour French class was too boring for us that day. So we sat next to each other on an old wrestling mat, just talking. He looked so beautiful, and he had no idea how much I loved him.
“You know what’s weird?” He said turning to me “All the time in school random people come up and grab my hands or arms, then all of them say that they’re too cold, and that I should wear a jacket or gloves.” Then he got a goofy smile on his face. God I miss his smile….

I started blushing as I replied “hmmmmmm, I want to see how cold they are. I bet they aren’t that bad.”
Then I grabbed his hand with my own. And I laid my head on his shoulder. Then very gently, without thought or hesitation, I kissed his cheek, and pulled back to look into his eyes. He nodded with a smile. So softly and timid, I kissed his lips.

After several more minutes, and several more kisses, he looked at me with those perfect brown eyes, and I asked quietly,
“Hey Logan?”
“Yeah Meredith?”
“What would you say if I told you that I think I love you?”
“I’d say that I love you back” he replied without hesitation
I must have had the dumbest smile on my face when I said;
“I love you Logan Miere”
“I love you too Meredith Blaine”

On November 6th, 2004, I Meredith Blaine, gave my first kiss, and spoke my first “I love you”
To a man I will always love. The best way to describe that day was, like a dream.
But, like all dreams, you have to wake up eventually.

On June 1st, 2005, at approximately 6:15pm, Logan Miere committed suicide by overdose, using his mother’s pain medications.

On June 2nd, around noon, his body was discovered on his sofa by his Aunt Maggie. Who had come over to tell Logan that his mother, who had been battling with Breast Cancer for the past five years, had passed away in St. Mary’s, earlier that morning.

On June 6th, at one in the afternoon, I attended my first funeral. Logan lay there in the middle of the room, looking so peaceful in his coffin. He was wearing the tux he’d worn when we’d gone to prom together, only the week before. He looked so beautiful, even though he wasn’t breathing, or smiling. And even though he couldn’t hear me. I still told him I loved him.

Now on October 28th, 2006, on what would’ve been Logan’s 18th birthday, I Meredith Blaine, am hollow and alone. With only the memories of those days to hold onto, my parent’s told me that Logan suffered from “depression” and that the note he’s left for his mother explained how he couldn’t lose anymore. That his dad leaving when he was little was enough and that he couldn’t handle losing his mother too. He knew his mom didn’t have much time left, and he didn’t want to be here to see her run out.
He said he didn’t want to be alone and unloved.

But he wasn’t alone!! And God knows I loved him! I was always there for him; I was always going to be there. I had always, and will always love him with my entire heart. Why couldn’t he see that!?!!
When did I mess up so bad, where he’d get it in his head that I would be able to live without him? Did I not show him how much I loved him as well as I could have?
Did I not listen enough?

Was I not enough???

The night it happened, he called me. I’ll never forget the sound of his voice. He sounded so scared. The conversation was brief, but before he hung up, he asked me something.

“Meredith, what would you do if we broke up? Or if I wasn’t here? What would you do?”

It took me a couple seconds to register what he was saying.

“Ummmm, I would go back to being the way I was before we started dating I guess”

“You mean you’d go back to being depressed?” He asked

“Yeah probably, only for a little while, I’d be fine though.”
Of course I was lying. I knew I’d be a complete mess. I didn’t want him to stay with me out of pity or guilt though. I wanted him to stay with me out of love.
“I’m sorry I’m being so confusing” he said “I should go though, I love you so much Meredith.”
“I love you too Logan”

Then he hung up the phone, and the next thing I remember was my mom waking me up crying, she kept saying Logan’s name, and something about how there’d been an accident.

But what Logan did was no accident! He chose to die. He didn’t want to stay here with me. I wasn’t enough for him. He didn’t even have the guts to say he didn’t love me. Because he obviously didn’t. He couldn’t have ever really loved me if he could do that to me. Knowing how badly he would hurt me.

Knowing how much I loved him, and how much I’d miss him…

The date is October 28th, 2006, and the time is 8:20am. I Meredith Blaine have decided that 1st hour French class is too boring for me. So I went into my high school’s old gymnasium, I lay down on an old wrestling mat, and I cried myself to sleep.


*ENDING NOTE*

Originally I wrote this entire piece from Logan's point of view, and it was Meredith who'd died, but originally I wasn't planning on actually using this piece for CE so I switched it so it would be easier to read. Even though I still love it in Logan's perspective so much more...I ended up getting a comment from a judge that his suicide wasn't "manly" enough, alas it makes sense when I explain it.. I also apologize for any typos.

*END ENDING NOTE*