I sit up and wipe my face before walking into the bathroom and getting some pills from the cabinet. I sit back on the bed and look at the container for what they are.
All you need is faith, trust, and a little bit of pixie-dust!
A bad feeling bubbles in my stomach and I decide to try the window. Walking out of the house, I climb to the top story and open the window to slip in. I find her motionless on the bed, a bottle of pills at her side.
"No," I whisper, my eyes tearing up.
I bolt to the bed and check her pulse.
"Halee, please," I beg, "don't do this to me."
I'm never what I like I'm double sided And I just can't hide I kind of like it When I make you cry 'Cause I'm twisted up, twisted up Inside
Surround yourself with people who are serious about being writers, and who will tell you, ‘Hey—you can do better than this.’ Who will be critical of your work, but also supportive. And who will not be competitive in a negative way. — Isabel Quintero