Barbara Johnson's Reason To Die
I remember asking Barbara Johnson if she'd go out with me, to which she smiled at me with glittered eyes and sticky lollipop lips and said:
"Look at me."
I did, and I was confused by what she was getting at. I didn't realize there was a time bomb cut into her back.
I got really angry when she killed herself because I still didn't understand why she had refused to go out with me, I just knew it wasn't because she was saying goodbye. She didn't say goodbye to anyone. She didn't want her last traces to be her leaving.
Barbara wanted to stay in people's minds forever. She wanted you to remember the crystal that rested in her belly button and her green chipped toenail polish and the way she threw bubblegum wrappers in the garbage. She wanted a legacy of herself stained into the fleshy brains of easily influenced people.
I was sitting in my room about to jerk off to her when I finally realized why she did it. Because her legacy was left on me. I looked at her, I did what she said. And I passed her test. And that was the only thing she ever wanted. And that was her last reason to stay.