Why Did You Leave? (A story I wrote for my friend)

We have shared our best and worst memories. We have encouraged each other during times of doubt; embraced each other in times of sorrow. Now, when I need you most, you are gone. I am desperate for you to come back and never leave again. Since your departure, there has been an empty spot in my heart, an unrepairable void. I long for a time when we may, once again, be at each other's side no matter what. It isn't enough just to communicate. I need to see you and hear your beautiful voice. My biggest fear is not death, but forgetting. Under no circumstances do I ever want to forget your lovely face or your alluring voice. You light up my life,  but since you vanished from my side, I have been living in a  desolate world. No one shall ever come to know or understand me as you have. I yearn for the days when I can say I have a best friend that has always been there. The truth of the matter, though, is that after you had moved away, some depressing events have happened and you weren't here to comfort me. I sent you a message telling you whenever something bad happened. Whenever you asked if I was "ok", I lied. I told you I would get over it, but I can never get over the fact that such events occurred when I had no true comfort. When you came to visit, you were only here for a short time. So short, in fact, it wasn't even worth while by the time I had to go through the pain of saying goodbye again. I never got the chance to hug you one last time before you went off again, and I have felt regretful every moment since our parting. Since your disappearance, I have been less trusting than ever before. I just don't know if I can ever trust anyone now that I have realized that they can just leave me alone in my own world; where I was before. This place I speak of leads to dangerous thoughts. Some of these stories I post are based on my experiences in that depressing world. If you take the time to read this, I want you to know this is the true answer to the question "Are you 'ok'?"

Do You Trust Me? (A letter between friends)

Dearest friend,
We have been through the whole nine yards together. I have a simple, inevitable question for you. "Do you trust me?" Before you become prejudice towards the matter, I would like you to acknowledge the courage it takes to ask a friend this "everyday" question. Nothing can sever our relationship, except for ourselves, which calls up this inquiry. It can determine the truth behind our relationship, whether it is worth having, and also, it introduces the ideas of deception and veracity. If you don't immediately answer this, then you either never thought about it, or you want to make sure you are completely accurate. If you immediately answer, you either have already thought of this, or you don't mean what you say, it is just a reaction. If you can answer "yes" truthfully, then you should be able to answer this "interview" with a little thought and a lot of honesty.---
How much do you trust me? Would you do anything for me? What would you do to keep me alive? If I had to move, what would you go through to stay with me? Would you sell me out for you own personal benefit? Most importantly: Why do you trust me?---
To those of you reading this, I want you to know that this is how I base my friends. If they can't answer then they don't know me well enough. If their answer is well thought out, they are good friends. If they say they don't trust me, they will either never trust me, or they haven't learned to trust. My answers are usually well thought out because I never want something as valuable as friendship ruined by the misuse of my vocabulary. The only reason I didn't have a story with a moral or something you learn based on what I wrote is because friendship doesn't come with an explanatory manual. Some things you have to learn yourself.  Thank you for your time.

Who cares? (A simple short story I wrote)

I angrily crept along the sidewalk teeming with people going about their normal business. But if anyone would care to notice anyone around them, they would realize the blood trickling down my disconsolate face. I was assaulted by a burly man because he was affronted by a remark I had uttered ever so silently about him utilizing his strength to empower himself over feeble beings.---
As I stole down the pathway, I met eyes with a met eyes with a handsome young man. No one would ever query about the intelligence of this man. He wore a brilliant suit that marked a sophisticated person, such as a lawyer or an accountant. The identity of this gentleman may never be fathomed all due to my recklessness. Never before had I realized the importance of my actions.---
He advanced toward me until the point where it was almost uncomfortable. He interrogated me about my injuries and despaired expression. I was suspicious of him at first, but after recognizing the disheartenment on his face I realized someone not only noticed me, but actually cared. I conjured up a theory that he was sent to communicate a message to me about my recently vanished sister. Amazingly, I was correct in that he was here in order to discuss the status of my sister's health, however I had not predicted he would tell me she was dying in the hospital. I demanded he tell me her exact location and, when he stated it was confidential, grabbed him by the throat and threatened to murder him. He immediately clutched his coat pocket and I discovered he had been recording the entire conversation.  I ripped it out hastily and tugged him along the sidewalk into an abandoned alleyway. When he discovered my true motive, he agreed to take me to see my sister. ---
At the hospital my sister lay, unconscious, on the bed absorbed with her own dried blood, which, I was told, is contaminated by a disease I am unfamiliar with. The doctors talk of such symptoms as spontaneous internal bleeding, severe nerve damage, and, in rare cases, a series of seizures shortly followed by death.  They say it is incurable without a massive blood transfusion. One that would involve a risk of death on both parts. I have a different blood type, because I took more after my father, but the lawyer's was identical. He immediately volunteered and, without the slightest hesitation, lie down on an operating table and gave me his identification badge.---
It wasn't until after the bodies were buried that I examined the badge of the man who gave his life to attempt to save my sister. The unsuccessful operation left me alone and unrepairable. It was my fault that they were both dead. As I looked over the badge, I learned that he was a special agent working under the government but his name was concealed by a smear of blood. A small piece of paper fell from the protective shield, which resembles a wallet. I carefully picked up the paper and discovered that he was sent to protect me. That I was to be taken to the government so they could examine my brain. That they had wanted to examine the brains of murderers, to learn why they kill. You may be wondering why that would involve me. The reason is that I killed my parents, which caused my sister to run away from the only family she had left. She received the disease because she was attacked, as I was. That leaves four people dead due to my unforgivable actions. Never again shall an innocent person die as a consequence of my unjustifiable behavior.---
The government accepted me into their experiment without question. No longer must anyone deal with the person that didn't think anyone cared. The truth is, I was the one who didn't care.