We were having a great time dancing to no music and laughing at unsaid jokes. But I couldn't help thinking of Allie. She had told me that I was the only one who knew about her, and her “problem,” as she called it. She told me not to tell anyone about her. I guess I screwed up. I know she is mad, but I don’t think it is my fault that she got caught and locked up. She knew she was doing something wrong. I knew she was doing something wrong. We both knew. And, I guess we both knew she was going to get caught sooner or later. I guess she just assumed it would be later. I guess I do feel guilty for telling on Allie, but I would also say it’s for the best. I'm just glad they didn’t make the whole thing public, and put it in the newspaper. I guess they were ashamed. I guess I miss just miss her. I guess that’s why I'm here tonight. To start forgetting about Allie. I guess I need to start somewhere, and I guess somewhere is here. I guess I need to make new friends. I guess I just need to start over without Allie. I guess she was bad for me. I guess she wasn’t the best friend. I guess she was a bad influence. I guess I should just get up and out and go places. See things. Be someone. Be anyone. Be anyone, except for the girl who knew Allie. The girl who hung out with Allie. The girl who helped Allie. I guess I should get over her. I guess I should accept it. I guess she’s dead. Even if everyone else says she’s just in jail, I know she’s dead. The Allie I knew is dead. She’s long gone. Allie’s in for life, anyways, no visitors. So might as well be dead. I guess I should let that go. Why should I mourn her? After all she did to me? I was nothing to her. Just her locked box of secrets. Her walking, talking diary. The person she could tell anything, all the stories about the good trips, the bad trips, the rehab, and the busts. If I knew she did something terrible, why did I wait so long? Why didn’t I leave her alone? Why couldn't I see? I guess I was so busy searching that I didn’t realize how much I had found. I guess I should fly away. Leave this town, theses memories, theses haunting houses, streets, buildings. I guess I wish I could. I guess I can’t, though. I guess I enjoy the pain, the sadness, the cloud of hurt lurking over my head. I guess I like the teasing, the taunting, the pointing, the staring. I guess it hurts, but I guess it’s not that bad. I guess I can’t forget. I guess shell stay with me forever. I guess I can’t face my demons, my fears. I guess I can’t let her go. I guess shell hang over my head, sitting on that clouds of hurt, sneering at me for the rest of my life. I guess I can’t stop it. I guess I’ll get used to it. I guess I’ll live.
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