dear marie.

all those times i have ever thought a bad thing about you, i take back in this particular moment in time. although it has been more than 5 hours since you uttered the question "Mari, are you okay? you look very sad" and although i HATE it when you call me Mari, i thank you in the most sincere manner. 

while you were grabbing your bag and exiting the facility of the library, you saw me with a look on my face i cannot describe because of the fact that i look in the mirror a maximum of once a day. i clearly expressed a look of anger and sadness, that much i can say is true, and you took 5 seconds to go out of your way to express concern towards a fellow classmate. 

i answered with a lie i can still remember oh so clearly, and you followed me and made conversation while you took your books out of your locker for next period. 

it was pleasant, funny and made me smile once. 

once being enough for me to feel a little better at what period 3's epiphany made me realise and spiral into a deep sadness only one other person could understand, yet was missing. 

i went back to my friends, realised that they hadn't missed me at all and felt an even deeper sadness than what i felt earlier. 

i know you don't know this URL, i know you never go by your first name, thus leading to the fact that you'll never read this and never know i lied to you all those hours ago, but i feel as though it is my duty to tell you all the words that were behind the phrase "don't worry I'm fine. I'm just thinking."

no Marie, in actual fact i don't think I'm 100% okay. there's a theory that if you write wonderful poetry, there must be something wrong with you on the inside. there must be something else going on inside your head that's so bad that all you can do is create something beautiful to shadow internal pain and let you possess temporary happiness and pride. 

when your only remaining friend decides to ditch you for someone else they've only known for a few weeks it's pretty damn hard. the only thing you can think of is whether or not you were such a bad friend as to them finding a stronger anchor to weigh them onto land.  

and on top of that there's things i can't even trust myself to know and keep secret because if i tell even ONE FUCKING PERSON it could lead to multiple bruises and a black eye. 

actually, i told one person but she's around about the only person i could trust with that.

at this point I'm not sure what the initial consequences will be, but all i know is that i need my shit together before i even think of thinking about stuff like that. 

i told someone something of what's making me so sad and they told me they couldn't be my friend if i "wasn't just joking."

in reality they didn't know how serious i was, buried under all the "lols" and "dude I'm just freaking joking, jeez" that passed through that online conversation. 

the more i write the more insanely hard it gets to not just stop, delete this, and pretend it never happened but i promised i wouldn't lie with what I'm feeling and i owe it to you to answer the question you asked hours ago. some things i can't say, i can;t say for fear that THEY will come back but for now i can tell you this:

Marie, in a world that is completely ruled by money, I'm running out of it. 

my parents are.

i am.

we all are.

and it scares me to die so badly, to loose people that always have a small chunk of my heart and decide to take it with them that it lead me to an hour hour ago, desperately hoping i didn't miss her by 10 minutes so i can just tell SOMEONE who won't judge me how i feel. it's a horrible feeling.

most people are scared to die but I'm sorry to say that i already am. 

sometimes i wonder what they'll read at my funeral, and if it turns out to be something that sounds like this, I'm so truly sorry.

I'm sorry i was a failure.

i was pathetic.

emo.

EVERYTHING they have EVER called me, I'm sorry i wasn't like what they wanted me to be. 

oh well.

Marie i answered your question.

I'm not okay.

phoenix and mercury, I'm sorry but it's going to be a little bit quiet for a little bit.

even though i know you are "imaginary friends" i still consider you to be my friends.

I'm sorry.

i love you both, so sorry if i kill you.

i left a lot out but i hope this was enough to satisfy you.

you got me.

it took years, but you got me.

so, on a final note,

i am not dying, merely dead. 

just as you all are.

and when i see you, side by side, screaming your eyes out in the fiery depths of hell, I'll look down on you from heaven and laugh 

goodbye.