Found all the old stuff. Sketchbooks, bits of scribbled stories, old diaries... and that. Still in its own little box at the very top of my closet that I used to have to climb up the boxes in order to reach.
...Still manages to make me cry, and it's already been years. I miss you, Daemon-love. I miss you and Raine so much still, it hurts. There's no point in asking why, is there? Story's simple: you went off and burned in your own little blaze of glory and left me behind. I love you, I miss you, I love you, I love you I love you so fucking much. I still hate myself for not stopping you while I still could, you know? Damn you for following through with it.
Sandy's a prostitute now, I think. Yes, that Sandy. Not just strip clubs nowadays... UofT's just a dream long gone by now. She's somewhere in Toronto blowing every cent that she has in her arm, I'm sure. She needed you more than I did. You know how I am... I can't do anything for her. Now I can't find her, either.
Amy's still wasting her life with that prick Aidan. Hates me now, too. Haven't seen her since that debacle last year. Don't plan to, either. Being threatened with a knife, no matter how small, by one of your friends, is not an experience I ever I want to live through again.
That's our old "crew" in a nutshell. But you know that right? Heaven must grant you some sort of omnipotence. I just... yeah. It's taken me almost an hour to get this far, and the feeling of spewing my guts out somewhere, anywhere is fading fast. So I'm just going to stop.
Your deathday's tomorrow. Both of you. How strange that I found that box today. I was so happy today. I swear I still will be.
I miss you.
If anyone did read that, I left this entry Public because just on the off-chance Mari or Meagan or Sarah, etc. (okay... maybe not Sarah ^^;;) happen to see me tomorrow, and I happen to arbitrarily forget and burst into tears or something (as unlikely as it is) they'll know why and (I hope) not worry about me.