;fifteen;

                                    

                                          
mum, 
                          
when i pulled my convertible into my drive way, i hadn't even bothered to go inside before opening the journal to the last entry. it read:
                          
niall. 
                          
his name rolls off my tongue so naturally, and every time i think about him, i picture our kiss, so passionate yet calm and sweet, but no matter how much i think i like him, i can't. 
                          
the few days i had with him at the coffee shop were so relaxing; i felt like myself again. i finally felt happy for at least an hour each day.
                          
but no matter how much i enjoyed it, it's not fair for him to like me when i'm just a suicidal, insecure teenage failure. 
                          
i have to leave before this gets any further. 
                          
goodbye.
                          
my eyes welled up in tears as i read the entry.
                          
she liked me, and i liked her, but she couldn't.
                          
as i reread the entry, a phrase stood out to me:
                          
"i finally felt happy for at least an hour each day."
                          
i had made her happy; it was my intention when i saw her. i had totally forgot about the deal i made myself a few months prior because talking to her became my priority. 
                          
that line meant that i was free to go. 
                          
as i stumbled upstairs, i counted twenty pills in my palm, and swallowed them whole in one mouth-full. i felt myself go dizzy slowly.
                          
goodbye, mum. i'll see you soon.
                          
-niall
                          
omf this is done
                          
i think i may have killed you guys
                          
i'm sorry 
                          
ilyasm