- Created By otakualchemist
Stay strong.
Those were the words said to me by Courtnei's best friend, Brandi. I embraced her and asked her how she was doing, and when we parted, she said, in her quivering voice, a whispered promise, "Stay strong."
So I will.
This is her. I know the file size is huge, and I'm sorry.
http://seta-sempai.deviantart.com/art/imagine-84858946
The lyrics are from John Lennon's "Imagine," which she loved. The message is strong.
Thank you for all of your words.
Are happy endings impossible?
May 3rd. 2008. Saturday.
Courtnei Lotridge, age 16. Ruptured spleen, a result of mononucleosis.
Another May, another dear friend lost, another river of tears.
Why does May prove so fatal for those I love the most?
May 29th
I guess you guys all deserve an explanation as to why May 29th is such a big deal. Well, here, it's the first anniversary of the death of the two most amazing girls in the world.
It makes me cry just to think about it.
Churning
I can feel my stomach screaming.
Ever had food poisoning? It SUCKS. With a capital S (and everything else) as you can see. I got it from school food last Friday, and have it to this day. TO THIS DAY, MONDAY. It's sickening.
I can't eat fries ever again, I don't think. I'll subconsciously associate them with throwing up and laying in bed for three days.
Ice cream helps. But that's about it. So I'm gonna be sittin' here, sucking down push pops and creamsicles until my stomach settles down.
On another note...
When May 29th comes around, the entire Northwest body will lose their ablities to speak, breathe, or smile.
It makes my stomach churn, but I can't look away.
I just want to see them again... you know? Those girls that I grew up with and took for granted.
I just wanna see them and hold them and stroke their hair and bring them back to their families and friends that miss them more than life.
I think... that it was May 29th... that made us all adults.
Lichtenstein
You ever heard of a guy called Roy Lichtenstein? He was this guy who looked at pictures in art museums and said "I can do that," And he did. He made Picasso-esque women, curved metal sculptures, melted and twisted and beautiful with pre-detirmined light and dark, leaving so much to the imagination and yet so little. He looked at a woman in a comic book, the waxy pages between his fingers, as her hand was pressed to her hair, her worry expressed in her bubbled thoughts. He looked at those and said "I can do that." And he did.
Now I'm going to do it, too.
