Kelly, Seventeen, one sister, strait A’s, never late, likes chocolate cake, loved by many. Facts. This is all my life adds up to. At least according to the speakers at my funeral. Well one speaker, everyone else is either crying or nonexistent. I think he one speaking is a second cousin twice removed or some other complicated gibberish who had gathered info from me over the space of the time we spoke at aunt Sarah’s wedding. So in reality am I really loved? Does a collection of five people-Three of which are my parents and sister, one cousin and one Aunt Sarah represent my life? Is everyone else so overcome with grief that they could not bear even to attend?
Sitting in the middle of a row in the middle of the benches that line the room in rows of two, right there on the left side, being able to see everyone, while they can't see me. I watch as my world shatters. All of my walls break down and I simply don't know how to move, how to think, how to breathe.
Well who could have predicted this? Certainly not me. Walking out of the room, yearning for what will never be, to return to my life, to do it over again until I can get it right. To not die.
And just like that I’m weightless, senseless, timeless.