Together Again
by Katie

PART 15

A few weeks after the funeral (Madison's reflections)…

The funeral was…I don't even know how to explain it. The ceremony was tasteful, for lack of a better word to describe the funeral of one of your best friends who died mostly because of you. I almost didn't show up, I didn't know if I could handle seeing her, all dead and still.

To my knowledge, the Blackstones are completely clueless as to why Carrie was so upset the day her heart finally just stopped trying to survive. As far as I'm concerned, it's almost like a burden has been lifted from them. That's what I saw in them at the church and at the cemetery. Of course their eyes were filled with tears, but not tears of necessary sadness. I was probably the only one who could tell that their emotions were bogus.

It was a complete shocker to me that Kelly was the one who actually managed to drag me out of bed on that cool fall morning to go say one last goodbye. Kelly has been so great to me, sometimes I wonder if this is all a dream. How could my girlfriend be so supportive of me when I somewhat clearly had feeling for my now deceased friend? It was a mystery to me, but nonetheless, I was thankful for her very existence in my life.

Now it's time to move on. As much as I've been telling myself that ever since it happened, I just can't. I feel so guilty.  My mom keeps telling me that it was only a matter of time before her heart would give out, but I don't believe that. Carrie was a fighter; she could have made it so much longer…

I'm surprised I can still cry about this. I've cried myself to sleep every night for the past three weeks. Now when I walk to my meaningless classes, I see more and more people just staring at me, unsure of what to make. The dark bags and puffy eyes on my makeup less face have stunned my "audience" of on lookers.

I don't look or feel like the same Madison Walker that I used to be.  I've changed so much. I haven't skated since the day Carrie and I kissed; it's just too painful for me to deal with right now. Once and again, my mom's got me to see some Dr. Dumont to help me deal with my emotions. Although I really appreciate her concern, I really hate therapists. I've had maybe three different ones, none of them knew what to say and anything advice they did have, I had already thought of it. I tried talking to my mom about why I don't need one, but she's a very persistent woman. My first appointment is tomorrow after school.

Oh, let me tell you what else has happened to me since the Carrie died. My school counselor Mr. Mayer, as well as my mom, Katie, and my coaches thought it would be best if I dropped some of my extra curricular for a while. I thought it was the worst thing they could do to me, besides deciding that I should go to a therapist. I need to be able to run, to get my frustrations and confusion out of my system, and that doesn't happen by sitting in a room with some "doctor" who keeps asking me the most ridiculous questions to try to pass the hour as quickly as possible. Last week Danielle, Carrie's sister, came over to give me a journal of Carrie's. She knew her parents didn't want it, so since she knew how close we were, Danielle decided to see if I wanted to keep it. Of course I said yes, because I'd rather have it then her parents.

So yesterday we had the first snow of the year, bringing in an enormous foot of snow, canceling school and the thought of even trying to get out of the house. Instead of draining my mind of whatever amount of intelligence was left by watching soaps all day, I decided to read Carrie's journal.  Mom had stayed the night at Katie's so she was stuck there, although I doubt that either of them minded.

After reading the entire thing, I was in tears. I never knew I could cause someone so much pain. Care started her journal when she was little. When she was a little girl she was still as optimistic about the world as she used to be. Then, something inside of her changed. In a matter of minutes of reading, Carrie's mind went from a hopeless romantic and optimist to a depressing and rather hostile girl wanting to escape the ruthlessness of the world that she had just started to trust again. The lyrics inside the pages; will forever haunt me with
their power and wrath.

"`With you' – Linkin Park
I woke up in a dream today
To the cold of the static/and put my cold feet on the floor
Forgot all about yesterday
Remembering I'm pretending to be where I'm not anymore
A little taste of hypocrisy
And I'm left in the wake of the mistake/slow to react
Even though you're so close to me
You're still so distant/and I can't bring you back

It's true/the way I feel
Was promised by your face
The sound in your voice
Painted on my memories
Even if you're not with me
I'm with you

You/now I see/keeping everything inside
You/now I see/even when I close my eyes"

These words keep knifing me in my spine. I shake even though she's
gone and nothing can change that, I'm still disturbed by those
words. And there's more…

" `Don't speak' – No Doubt
I really feel
I'm losing my best friend
I can't believe this could be the end

It looks as though you're letting go
And if it's real,
Well I don't want to know

Don't speak
I know just what you're saying
So please stop explaining
Don't tell me `cause it hurts
Don't speak
I know what you're thinking
I don't need your reasons
Don't tell me `cause it hurts

Our memories
They can be inviting
But some altogether
Mighty frightening

As we die, both you and I
With my head in my hands
I sit and cry

It's all ending
I gotta stop pretending who we are…
You and me
I can see us dying…are we?"

I think what pains me the most about that entry is the tears over some of the ink on the page. It kills me to finally be able to see what she was going through.

I spent the rest of the day in my bed, crying myself to sleep once more.

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