“When Writers Have Nothing to Say”

I used to love going to the window on the third floor with her. We laughed all the time to the point that we were tearing up from laughing so hard. God I miss those days when school was fun and I had not screwed up so hard. Every time I go by there I sometimes see her leaving class and she sees me and I remember what I did. I haven’t even forgiven myself for I did. How could I possible ask for her forgiveness. When I pass the window where I had the time of my life I cringe with what I did. I feel a strong emotion of regret and sadness. Before I would look of the third floor window with her seeing the light hitting the cars driving pass. People leaving school by getting into their blue and red cars or riding there bike home or to someone they made plans with. Now when I look out of it i see nothing but what I did. I don’t see the people laughing or her smile, I don’t see people leaving with those they made plans with or the bikes helping people get home faster, all I see is myself and the worst thing I had done in my life. I see the sorrow but at the same time anger at myself for doing it. To think this all happened during the first months of my first year in high school. Now it’s my senior year and I still have not forgotten what I did. Now the window is covered by a poster from the outside. You can no see so well out of the window. It feels like I was setting on edge by the window making her life because her day went bad or she had been gone several days due to her being sick. Some days teachers would say we could not be upstairs due to no supervision was around. I would always think in my head that we weren’t anything but friends. We were friends who could do anything together and could tell each other our problems and make each other happy. I wish I had not ruined our friendship, but my idiotic decision ruined it.

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