She looks so happy. How can someone that happy kill themselves? I knew she wouldn't do it, and this is enough proof of that.
Still, what emotion remained in me wasn't only that fact; somehow, I felt... envious of the happiness she chased and found. That she found herself while I'm lost and don't know where to go or start. She was this happy a week before she died. Who knows when I will die? But I haven't found my happiness.
It's pathetic to feel jealous of someone who I thought was miserable and sad until she died, but she's actually happy and even at peace. Until someone took that away from her.
I didn't realize that finding out the truth about her death was making me lose myself. I got so obsessed with it that I forgot about my own happiness. And because I convinced myself that findin
