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Here Without YouA beautifully decorated cake sat in front of an empty chair. A brunette of about 23 was standing behind the empty chair. A group of almost 10 people were in the room singing a rather somber rendition of "Happy Birthday". The brunette takes in a breath and expels it, the bright flames of the candles disappearing. Quiet murmurs of excitement and claps come from the group of people surrounding the cake. The brunette continues to stare sadly at the cake. Another man about his height with a small go-tee on his chin claps him on shoulder and smiles at the younger man.
"Cheer up Emile, you know he would be having a good time right now and you should be doing the same."
Josh's calm voice made Emile smile a little as he looked at the cake some more. He let out a heavy sigh and walked around the edge of the room until he got to the door and then paused.
"You guys go ahead and dig in; I'll be back in a sec'."
A few of them looked at him with concerned eyes but turned back to the others, dec
Amano Ginji Death Poem
I'm laying in this bath of blood
Knowing there was something I could have done.
To stop it all,
I should have let out the call.
Now I'm dieing,
but no one is here to hear my crying.
I feel like a fool,
to think that I thought I was his tool.
He stuck by me and me by him.
Now I'm paying the price of my stupidity.
The rain falls harder,
and I don't think I can stay like this much longer.
Remember me Ban-chan,
not as a fool,
but as your partner,
and your forever friend.
Goodbye world, I am now set free of your cruelness.
Hello Death, I now enter your embrace on my own...
Try and catch up if you can...
Teenage TaoismGiving birth is the closest I’d ever felt to dying.
Before that, my near death experiences had consisted only of my silent announcement of pregnancy—silent, being that my social media accounts were all deleted almost simultaneously and I never returned to school in the fall, saying without really saying that I had caught the malicious disease of “teenage pregnancy”. I’m sure the whisper spread in the hallways like the Bubonic Plague. That September, sitting at home on what would have been the first day of my senior year, I imagined friends I’d never talk to again saying “she was only seventeen, and so full of life!” at my absence in the cafeteria tables, as if they were attending my funeral instead of talking about me behind my back.
"Full of life," I had snorted then, folding a never ending stream of what had once been my own baby clothes. "Literally."
I walked around like a zombie for the months of my pregnancy, deciding t
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