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But then my eyes fell on the journal--exactly where I had left it For ain ut until I noticed the small slip of paper below it, with the words: Please leave here, neatly scrawled across it

The handwriting looked too faet it after having stared at it for so long earlier--after trying to decode the words they’d forlance around to see if anyone atching me--expectantly or not--then snatched the journal and paper from the desk and walked quickly toward the booth I always sat at

I flipped through the pages until I found the one I was looking for, but only had ti written below my note before I had to stash the journal next to me when one of the waitresses walked up

"Well, wellDeacon Carver What can I do for you tonight?" she asked Her voice dripped with sex, and her tone held so ht I knew I needed after the day I’d had

I couldn’t remember her name, I rarely tried to remember their names, but I remembered her If I hadn’t already known from personal experience that she was bat-shit crazy, I had no doubt I would have told her to coht

Unfortunately for her--and irls recked houses and screamed like banshees when they found out I didn’t want to be tied down, and I also didn’t have the patience to deal with her now

I’d been consuht was the beginnings of a fucked-up suicide note, had just released a year-and-a-half’s worth of pent-up anger on Charlie because I couldn’t seewhat had been written back to ruffly "Whoever is cooking right now, tell theo"

I stared at her expectantly until she turned with an exaggerated huff, and waited until she was back in the kitchen before pulling the journal back up

The relief that pounded through my veins as I read the note written back to

They hadn’t been about to commit suicide--she hadn’t been about to, I internally a

A harsh, relieving breath forced itself fros, and I had to set the journal on the table when the shaking of ain

She’d addedof a suicide note, and now thought ht be a poem If as in front of me then had been written down earlier that afternoon, I probably wouldn’t have spent hours panicking that this girl was going to kill herself

I wouldn’t have said what I had to Charlie

I ran itation poured froh breath out, I focused on the poeain, I still felt depressed as shit for the girl Because if this was supposedly about her relationship with a guy, then she had no fucking clue that he was using her, or that she was nothing more than the best friend Because those words pretty much suht of, Grey

Sister This girl wasn’t in a relationship, she was thought of as a sister

After grabbing a pen from a different waitress as she passed by, I added a couple words to the last line, and wondered why the hell I was ses in as I wrote back to her

You’re alive! Christ, you have no clue how daht have other problems now This relationshipare you sure you want to be in it? You say you’re always there for this guy, listening to hi apparentlyso who’s there for you? Who’s listening to you? I don’t know you, and you don’t know me--or, hell, maybe we do; this is Thatch--so you don’t have to listen to anything I say But fro way more of yourself into the relationship than he is Find someone ould write these words about you

Who listens to your sad songs