Allen, did you know you were such a spastic friend? I liked you because of your humor. I remember seeing your pale face walking down the halls every morning, a slight red tinge to your cheeks that always made you look younger than you were. Your pale skin always looked so perfect, sometimes I wondered if you’d start to sparkle and we’d all realize you were Edward Cullen all along.

But your face, it was never too happy. You looked at the world through distant eyes and I often wondered where you went to.

“Allen pay attention” the teacher would scold,
but you never seemed to care.

You weren’t like the rest of us, we liked to goof off, but at the end we all worked frantically, believing their lies about the impending doom of our future if we didn’t leave High School with a college knowing our name.

It’s funny, our society, the way we herd our people through these one way track schools, making drones and pumping them into the world.
Then we berate them for not looking past their small mindedness and not grabbing opportunity by the horns.

I didn’t know what was out there to be grabbed, but I wanted so bad to break away from the monotony, away from the requirements and create my own world.
I think you did too, Allen. I think your faraway look saw all the things I only dreamed of. There was a plan in that quiet head of yours, and I was determined to find it.

I finally managed to do so, I chose the seat at your science table. We both needed lab partners and High School was an unforgiving place for the socially awkward.

Your blue eye’s turned to me that day,
“Hi.” you murmured politely.

I smiled, I couldn’t help it. It was often annoying how easy it was for me to do, yet so hard to pull one from you. Your cheeks, forever red, something I always covered up on my own face but found so endearing on you.

Not gonna lie, you were lazy, oh so lazy and I wanted to kill you. Force you to care about my grade in the class, but it was never going to happen while you were too busy idly bopping your head to a beat somewhere in your mind.
You looked ridiculous, but you never cared. I watched you, wondering what it was you heard, you’d catch me staring and make me feel like an idiot.

Gradually you accepted me, distant eyes began to focus and they turned to me, crinkling in happiness.
It made everything seem so bright, when your blue eyes stopped looking past me.
I am loathe to admit it, but I didn’t have any friends Allen and I don’t think you ever realized how hard those days at school were for me.
You never saw the way they treated me, or the tears I wiped away when I was alone in the bathroom.  Everything hurt and I never understood why I never had a place with someone. Why didn’t anyone want me?

Laughter always filled the halls where I sat, invisible to the world, my pen moving along worn lines.

I wrote to have a purpose, to seem I had friends, mostly I wrote to pretend it didn’t phase me.
I was the angsty artist type, being alone didn’t phase us, or did it?

Every night I went home to the place I hated. No one greeted me with a smile, or asked me how my day was. It was an empty house, but it wasn’t the quiet I was afraid of.


It was when he would get home that I wanted to die.
My mom cooked dinner like every mom does and she wasted her time telling me I’d be a lot prettier if I didn’t wear my makeup so dark.
She never asked me what was in my notebook and I even remember reading her a poem one time.
She blinked a few times,

“You didn’t write that.” Was all she could say.


I did write that mom, I wrote it with every fiber of my soul. I worked so hard on it and I felt so proud and I wanted so badly for you to turn to me and tell me you liked it.
But life is never like the fairy tales, Allen. Happy endings are easy to write and impossible to live.
No one believed in me Allen, can you blame me for not believing either?  

I had told myself, if my mother had liked it, I was going to show you, take the plunge and see your reaction, jump across the precipice to your waiting refuge. But I lost my nerve.

I showered and prepared myself for the next day, waiting in dread for the witching hour.
You know, that hour of night little kids are afraid the monsters under their bed will get them?

Unfortunately the monster wasn’t under my bed, he walked through the door, and pulling a blanket over my head would never save me.

Even after a lifetime of his comings and goings, the fear always overwhelmed me when I heard his hand on the door knob.
My breathing would come in great gasps and I cried. I begged the angels, the God in Heaven even the demons to help me. I would give anything to make it go away.
The sound of his loathsome breathing, the way he sat down next to me and slowly unzipped his pants.

I wanted to stab my ears out every time I heard it. I wanted to rip the heart from his chest, but I was always frozen with fear.
He bruised my body and I couldn’t make a single sound.
I was so conditioned and I hated myself for it. More than I hated him, I hated me, my skin, every shameful part of my being.
Sometimes I cut myself, trying to bleed away the filth. I never went too far, reminding myself that 7th period tomorrow, your face would turn to mine and smile.


You were silly that day, walking in with that bob-in -your-step. You always greeted me so enthusiastically, my heart always exploded with love, the kind of love I always imagined family was supposed to have.

Did you know how dear you were to me? Did you know  that hour of my life was holding me together in those days?
I held the poem in my hand, and brought it out, mistakenly I forgot about the bruises on my wrists, the imprints of his cruel fingers.

Your eyes ignored the paper I was handing to you and you snatched my hand, pulling it near your face to examine the damage.
Your smile fell and my heart dropped. You weren’t supposed to see, I never wanted it to be your burden, but I saw how it weighed on you in that moment, how your ignorance faded away and you saw more of me than I wanted to share.
I yanked my hand away defensively and stared firmly at the table.
Crying in class was a sure way to make things worse, so I bit my tongue, repeating over and over in my head;

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.

I don’t blame you for not knowing what to say or feeling any of the things that would have moved over you.

You had a future, a beautiful place you saw and worked towards, but Allen, I couldn’t follow you there…


I dreamed, as a writer all I do is dream. I dreamed us going to college, getting our stupid degrees, hanging out on weekends at your dorm while you worked on the music you so loved.
I know you’d love nothing more than to run away and make your music, but you’re the logical sort and always did the things that needed to be done.

So we’d complain about Philosophy 101 and how they choose all the typical books and how everyone in the class was brain dead.
I would be in that creative writing class, and I’d write my way to freedom. I’d create a beautiful world where our friendship would never end. I’d be happy, truly happy.
You’d go to frat parties and sleep with girls, some you’d love, some you’d regret and I’d listen about all of them. I’d laugh at you and remind you how easy it was to get STD’s and buy you condoms because I didn’t wanna be telling your mom you knocked a girl up.

The thought of it made me laugh, but the darkness would never go away, Allen.


In college I would be free, but that would be a lie. His footsteps would no longer haunt my door, but they returned in my dreams, and I never stopped feeling his touch.

There would come a day, you would ask; why don’t I date?
You’d give me the ‘talk’ the awkward talk, the one your girlfriend tells you to have, because 3 is a crowd and girls don’t share.
I’d love you Allen, but she would never see that, she would just see a girl trying to steal her boyfriend.
You would tell me I needed other people, I needed to date and do things for me, so you could stop worrying about me.
I’d try, of course for you, I’d go away and find someone. It’s not hard, college boys just want to pick up chicks and when you’re known as the frigid chick it becomes a kind of challenge to be the ‘first.’

I’d lie through my teeth, walk hand in hand with the shallow boy I hated, let you see me smiling, but it wouldn’t bring you back.
Alone in the dark, that boy would be touching my body, doing all the things people like, all the things you thought I wanted.
His hands trailing over my abdomen, sliding off my pants, kissing my neck.

The fear I feel makes me rigid. I want to scream, I hate his hands, and his kisses make me want to vomit. I can’t kiss him back, but he doesn’t care.
Every part of him is no different than my step dad, but I’m supposed to like this and I don’t know how. How can this ever be fun, I want to say no, but I don’t know how.
He doesn’t ask me what I’m feeling, his body going in the direction it wants, mine crying out beneath him.
He enters me, like I had been entered so many times before, against my will.
Thrusting his way, believing he was the first, spilling over inside of me, so much pleasure consuming him.

It’s a pleasure I hate, a pleasure I never want to feel, Allen.

But I can’t avoid it. I’ll never be normal and soon 7th period will fade away and I won’t be able to follow you, Allen. The darkness within me consumes all that is good. Maybe if I had never loved you I would have made it, if I had never known hope or seen the glimmer of beauty I always found in those blue eyes.
If I hadn’t loved your cheeks so much, and thought about your dreams, if I had ignored you like I did everyone else, maybe I’d keep trying.

But that stupid, fateful day I lept after you, sitting beside you in science was the only happiness I had ever known.

You are my best friend, I realized this while looking at the stupid instagram posts all our peers posted under #nationalbestfriendday

I don’t think you know, how desperately I wanted us to be like them. To post a silly picture of us, laughing, your red cheeks upturned, looking at me. I’d tell you how you’re too good for the world, and how that dreaming heart of yours was going to make it, because your head was so good at doing the work Even that your music played through my head each night, and though monsters came to find me, it was my safe haven, giving me a glimmer of peace in my nightmare.

But you saw my wrist that best friend day and I saw how much it hurt you, Allen, and so I purposed in my heart to give you the only gift I could.
I needed to go away, I needed to save your future from my grasp.
I couldn’t imagine it, living without you.
The loneliness was too much to bear after knowing you, but I didn’t want to die, Allen.

I wanted to soar with the stars and live my life in my daydreams, in that space in my head, the only safe space I have ever known.

In that place we get to live out our dreams, hand in hand, posting a lifetime of national best friend hastags.
I know to you it probably seems so terrible, but please know it’s not.

Laying on this bed, my brain gone from this world, my body forever strapped to a machine, never to be touched by him again.
I’ll lie here, dreaming of us.

I’ll never come back to 7th period, and you’ll never hear my voice utter how sorry I am, my steps will be erased from those halls and you’ll have to find a new science partner.
But I’m still here, and I’ll be cheering you on as all your dreams come true.

Allen, it was better to have known you and given up than to never had met you and continued on in a life that had no meaning.
Maybe one day you’ll come and find me and tell me how awesome this life was.

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