Pretty short. Standalone. I LOVE REVIEWS. I put violence for cutting...so...yeah.
Sometimes I like to pretend that my world isn't crashing down.
Sometimes I like to pretend that she feels it when I put my arms around her.
Sometimes I like to pretend like I'm still alive.
Yeah, we all want to be big, big stars.
But then we have second thoughts about that.
It's almost humorous to me how it came about. My death, that is. Ironic, it came about the same way I promised it never would.
Every last drop was like sweet salvation, in some sick, twisted way. I watched it flow, a little heavier now, seeping at a steady pace. The smile crept across my lips as I saw it run down my forearm, hitting the elbow and flowing off the sides.
The plan was going perfectly. I had left her a goodbye love note; she would see it when she woke up. Sure, she would cry, but it's better off this way.
My conscience was screaming at me, "Ryan, you know you still love Audrey. Don't do this. Don't give up on her."
I was all alone and kneeling on the floor. The clock read 2:58AM; she wouldn't wake up for several hours. I still had time to enjoy the pain. Who am I kidding? The pain of stardom was far worse than the blood coming from my wrist.
"Yes," I whispered to myself, "Yes, I know I still love her, but she loves Brendon. I see the way she looks at him, like he's a god. I could never be that to her. Never to Audrey."
I heard footsteps coming down the stairs, and I made a frantic reach for the knife. I made two more slashes and winced at the touch of the cool blade.
"...Ryan? Ryan?" she whispered. She turned the corner, cursing as she saw my cuts.
"Ryan, what the fuck are you doing?" she said, far too calmly for my liking. Well, if she wanted to have a sweet little conversation while I was lying on my deathbed, so be it.
"Dancing the merengue; what does it look like to you, Audrey?"
"But, Ryan, you're still so young..." she said with mild disdain.
"And desperate for attention..." I smirked, citing one of my more apropos lines in her face.
"/Her attention.../" my conscience told me.
"I ought to call 911, Ryan, I really should."
"Don't bother. In the end it doesn't really matter. And Audrey," I paused, looking up into her face, which was getting blurrier by the second, "I'd just like to die letting you know that I hope you and Brendon all the happiness we could never achieve. It's all your fault. I hope you're...happy."
It was at that point that I felt my soul being ripped from my body. A sensation ran through me, crushing my limp form. The immense pressure disappeared and immediately I felt relieved. Almost like being alive again, only I could see my body lay there on the floor.
What I could also see was Audrey just standing there, a single tear dying to fall, not even caring that her boyfriend had died.
But what did she care anyway? She had /Brendon/.
I walked over in my ghostly form and wrapped my pale skinny arms around her, attempting to "console" her.
I laughed to myself, thinking of how the band would react.
I was everything to them.
She sat there stoically, almost like a statue, her plump lips red from the makeup of the day before.
I leaned down and kissed them; a sort of farewell kiss.
I'm dead, yes, but doomed to walk as a phantom; doomed to live life without being able to live.
Sometimes I go back and visit her.
Sometimes I go and sleep in her bed at night.
She still sleeps alone. Still without Brendon.
Sometimes I like to pretend she knows I'm still there.
Sometimes I wonder if I'm not pretending.