Blueberry Panic
October will cure me
- Jan 5, 2025
- 1,218
The news doesn't travel fast. It trickles. A voicemail left on an unknown number, a text that never gets read. By the time it reaches her mother, she's sitting at a kitchen table a state away, staring at her coffee gone cold. She doesn't cry right away. She just whispers, "No," like the word could rewind time.she doesn't know how to tell her siblings that their big sister is gone.
Her father hears about a days later. He sits in his car for an hour before starting it. Doesn't go to work. Doesn't call anyone. Just stares out the windshield, the radio murmuring static. He'd stopped trying to understand his kid years ago, but this... forever silence...he can't even hate properly.
The house stays untouched for a week. Dishes in the sink, laundry half-done. The friend..the one who actually cared...They walk slow, scared to see the ghost of a life they missed saving. They find a notebook in the box she left for her.... Nothing dramatic, a letter. Poems and songs, a few doodles, a few material things that she treasured and the date she left the world crossed out.
The world doesn't end. It just… dims.
At night, that friend sits on the edge of their own bed, phone in hand, scrolling through old messages. The last one was nothing...some meme, a joke. Now it feels like an epitaph. They keep rereading it until the screen goes dark, trying to find a warning that wasn't there.
Outside, life keeps going. People laugh too loud in the her apartment complex.Somewhere, someone falls in love. Somewhere else, someone else decides they can't do it anymore. And the friend just sits there, whispering into the empty room:
"I would've stayed up all night if you'd just said something..."
The only problem is ... is that she did ... over and over for years , she was crying for help but it wore people down and it pushed people away... until she was finally alone .
Until she finally found her way out.
Her father hears about a days later. He sits in his car for an hour before starting it. Doesn't go to work. Doesn't call anyone. Just stares out the windshield, the radio murmuring static. He'd stopped trying to understand his kid years ago, but this... forever silence...he can't even hate properly.
The house stays untouched for a week. Dishes in the sink, laundry half-done. The friend..the one who actually cared...They walk slow, scared to see the ghost of a life they missed saving. They find a notebook in the box she left for her.... Nothing dramatic, a letter. Poems and songs, a few doodles, a few material things that she treasured and the date she left the world crossed out.
The world doesn't end. It just… dims.
At night, that friend sits on the edge of their own bed, phone in hand, scrolling through old messages. The last one was nothing...some meme, a joke. Now it feels like an epitaph. They keep rereading it until the screen goes dark, trying to find a warning that wasn't there.
Outside, life keeps going. People laugh too loud in the her apartment complex.Somewhere, someone falls in love. Somewhere else, someone else decides they can't do it anymore. And the friend just sits there, whispering into the empty room:
"I would've stayed up all night if you'd just said something..."
The only problem is ... is that she did ... over and over for years , she was crying for help but it wore people down and it pushed people away... until she was finally alone .
Until she finally found her way out.
