The story of Emily

There is no other person that amplifies the best version of me, more than her. Emily Washington. She indefinitely removed all the messed up parts of me that were stationed deep within my being, and shipped them away to a place of no return. She is my everything. The way her subtle yet raspy voice tenderly soothes a persons spirit, is almost other worldly. Her dark brown eyes illuminate her god given smile, which happens to be one of her best traits, at least to me. I am in awe of her beauty every time I have the fortune to be in her presence. And it kills me, that she doesn’t view herself in the same way. Her time is constantly filled with outbursts of saddened rage and despair, accompanied by occasional guilt and self loathing. She destroys anything in her field of view when angered, but wallows in her overwhelming sadness when depressed. I do my absolute best to assist her in her obviously dire situations, but sometimes when she proceeds to lash out at not only me, but her parents, it becomes that much more difficult to help. I’ve always thought how unbearably difficult it must be for her to be like this all the time. Never really having a moment of just, being happy. Drowning in this river of pain as your lungs fill with water, and life as you know it is seemingly slipping right through your precious fingertips. So one day, while we were hanging out, she stormed in back into her room like a raging bull, after passionately cursing out her father for no apparent reason. And out of fed up rage I asked her “Emily, why do you do this? Why are you so angry all the time? What happened to the old you huh?” Emily then proceeded to give me the most distressed look I will ever see in this life, matched with an uneasy eye twitch. And proceeded to say something I will never forget. “In the horrid imperfect world that we have the misfortune of living in, all I ask for is a fair chance at living. The same chance that you have, and the same chance that my parents and everyone else was gifted. But it would seem that is just too much to ask. I didn’t ask to be like this, no one would. And if I could, I’d give all my pain and suffering, to someone else, maybe even you.” Those were the last words Emily said to anyone before she died the next week. She drowned in the river right next to her house. They say she obviously couldn’t swim since she fell in and immediately sunk to the bottom. So being that I was the only one that knew she was the captain of the swim team in seventh grade, made it all the more melancholy. I always wondered where the importance of living life ended. It always puzzled me when people would say that death is preferable over long term sickness. At what point does life become not worth living any longer? When is pushing through adversity not the viable option anymore? But my most prominent question was, why couldn’t Emily find a reason to keep going? I hoped everyday, that me loving her with all my heart would help her through her struggles. That I was a good enough reason for her to continue to live and thrive, but in the end, I guess I wasn’t enough. But the true tragedy here, has nothing to do with me. It has to do with the fact that a beloved person of beauty and wonder, was uncontrollably waging war against herself in her own mind, to the point that the battle, could have no Victor.