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6:03 p.m. - 1990-10-23
Lystless, by Antonius written in the Register, Spring 2001

It is Monday, January 29, 2001, 11:35 p.m. Yesterday was wonderful; today was ok. I woke up. I left and went to work, I went home, I didn't do my homework. I did everything I usually do on a usual Monday. My friend is dead.


"hi, what's up?"

" are you feeling?"

"great, you?"

"...something happened."


The first thing that went in my mind was a December night; she wore beautiful contacts.

She was so perfect. Her most perfect aspect was that she knew she wasn't perfect.

I hurt. I am tired. I hate. I am weary.

If only I knew that that was her greatest fault.

"she WHAT?"


My greatest memory with her must've been when we went to see a movie. We weren't supposed to, since it was NC 17; we sneaked in anyway. Then we went into the main station, but we decided not to ride the train. It was raining that November night, and the icy raindrops fell hard onto me. We shared her umbrella, even though I wore a hoody.


It's raining and there is no-one for me to turn to.

We walked past the Charles River, across the bridge. At one place we stopped to look at the water, but it smelled of sewage. We walked away, only to stop again.

"When? How?"

"I don't know. ...her brother called me tonight."

The next thing we knew, we were standing in the Boston Common concrete gazebo. We stood there happily while the freezing rain continued.

no one.

It was freezing.



Last New Year's Eve, I spent it with her. Her, me and her friend; my new friend.

"Honey, she passed away."

It will pass. Pain comes with glory. Pain is only temporary. Life is only temporary. So does pain equal life?



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