Let´s go back in time, to that one special person.
Shortly before the clip was shown the TV had switched from channel 1 to 2.
I looked down at myself. The same clothes I had worn when I had been taking those pills. So I had ODed that night. And now I was dead. I was dead?
That accounted for the lack of hunger and thirst, no need to sleep. I wasnÂ´t even breathing. I couldnÂ´t bleed anymore. I couldnÂ´t cry anymore. No liquid left in my body.
My body? Six feet under.
I need time to think. And time I seem to have a lot now.
What was this place?
Even though I wouldnÂ´t necessarily call myself religious, I like to think of myself as a spiritual person. Or at least I was one when I was still alive. Now IÂ´m just indifferent to the whole shit. Frankly, I feel betrayed. I never tortured animals and I didnÂ´t make fun of the weird looking fat kid that lived down my street. Good lord, didnÂ´t the guys and I donate thousands of dollars to various charity organizations?
And this was hell? I guess so. I mean obviously I had killed myself. Not on purpose, it had been an accident. Not that they seemed to care around here.
I feel horribly betrayed. This couldnÂ´t be it. This couldnÂ´t have been my life. Over. I had been at the prime of my life, the peak of my existence. My own band, my own clothing line, my own record label.
I found myself wondering about what EsmÃ© would do without me. Well, sheÂ´d be alright eventually. But what would I do without a life?
The mirror was back on the wall. IÂ´m assuming itÂ´s actually the one I smashed. Must have happened when I had my eyes glued to my death on the screen.
I guess itÂ´s final.
My, time flies when youÂ´re being dead.
All I could do was sit here and pass the time until I was shown the next puzzle piece of what I once had called my life. I would have preferred burning lava and a red bastard with a pitchfork.
A classroom thatÂ´s slowly filling with students.
A boy, looking about 15 years of age, sits down next to a petite girl. She glances at him as his chair scratches against the linoleum floor, producing a light squeaking noise. He notices it and examines her face. Smiles. She smiles back, but shyly.
"Are you new here? CanÂ´t say IÂ´ve seen you before... and usually I donÂ´t overlook pretty girls."
Her smile widens at his compliment, revealing her teeth. Extending her hand, she replies, "Yeah. I just moved here with my mother. IÂ´m Laura. Laura Palmer."
"Like the chick in Twin Peaks? ThatÂ´s awesome," he shakes her hand. "IÂ´m Pete. Wentz... Like the guy in AmericaÂ´s Most Boring High School."
She giggles softly, "Never watched Twin Peaks but...itÂ´s nice to meet you, Pete."
"Well, you should check it out. Kyle MacLachlan is just amazing. LauraÂ´s dead though."
The girl pulls a face, "Not sure I wanna watch it then..."
In the meantime all the seats around them have been taken by other teenagers whose voices are bouncing off the walls and mixing in the center of the classroom.
The teacher enters and the cheerful chatter slowly dies away.
"Good morning, folks. Who can tell me what we talked about last time?"
While another student answers the teacherÂ´s question the boy turns to the girl and whispers, "LetÂ´s continue this later, ok? Hawks freaks out if you talk during his boring class." He rolls his eyes and grins.
"IÂ´d like that," she flashes him a smile and then directs her attention towards the teacher.
He copies her, grinning to himself.
So channel 2Â´s the past, huh? One is probably real-time and 2Â´s my past.
Laura. I never forgot her. I never really got over her.
Laura was the sweetest person IÂ´ve ever met. She was intelligent, had a great sense of humor and she could listen like nobody else. She had so much patience with everyone. Especially with me.
That day, the day we first met, we had lunch together. Two weeks later we started dating and eventually Laura became my first real girlfriend.
I couldnÂ´t have asked for more in a person. We clicked like nothing IÂ´ve ever known. I loved her for her heart of gold and sensitivity. SheÂ´d always sense when I was feeling bad, even though I tried to hide it so many times. I didnÂ´t want to bring her down or have her start worrying about me. She always knew, miraculously, when I wanted to talk about what was troubling me and when I didnÂ´t. I never had to say a word. Read me like a book. It was as if there had been an invisible bond between her soul and mine.
If there is such a thing as the soul.
I interrupted my reminiscencing and walked over to the mirror on the wall. Staring at myself.
The fact that IÂ´m here, does that prove that I have a soul? Or used to have one?
Laura, why did you have to go? Why wonÂ´t anybody help me?