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Olivia
on
Jul 09, 2009 at 7:51 PM
Promises, Part I
mood: satisfied
The woods are lovely, Dark, and deep, But I have promises to keep.
And miles to go before I sleep.
Last night, while you were sleeping, I was riding like hell through the dark, on my way to keep a date with a dead girl.
Last night, while you were sleeping, I was walking through the dark deserted streets of Monterey, drinking rum out of the bottle and saluting passing police while searching for the perfect beach.
Last night, while you were sleeping, I carved a dead girl's name into silver sand.
The last night I had seen her on that beach, the moon had been full, and it had been the exact color of her hair.
There was no moon over Monterey last night, and the sky was black and cold.
Last night, while you were sleeping, I carved my first love's name into a beach made of shattered quartz; I found a beach with sand like broken glass that had been rounded, smoothed, and softened by the sea. And afterwards, I sat on a rock and told her everything. I told her that she was loved, is loved, and will be loved. I told her that she made a stupid choice, and that we understood, and that she made a stupid fucking choice. I told her that she had hurt a hundred people just by letting go of a railing, and that by hurting them, she had made them that much more alive. I apologized (on God's behalf) for the entire shit of the world. I told her that when the race was run, and the game was done, and I had won, that I hoped to see her on the other side.
And I watched the waves rise to wash away her name, and threw my bottle into the sea.
And I made her a promise. I promised that she would be remembered, even as the waves washed her name away.
Rachel Paige Wahl.
She was beautiful, and a brat, and fierce and soft, and determined and confused. She was an asshat, and an angel, and I loved her, love her, and will love her.
Rachel Paige Wahl.
If you forget the name, just think of a boy writing a name on a beach with a stone.
If you forget the name, just know that as the sea washed the sand clean, a silver crescent moon rose over the mountains, and the moon was still the color of her hair.
I promised she'd be remembered.
http://kalischild.livejournal.com/2006/10/18/
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Promises, Part I
mood: satisfied
The woods are lovely, Dark, and deep, But I have promises to keep.
And miles to go before I sleep.
Last night, while you were sleeping, I was riding like hell through the dark, on my way to keep a date with a dead girl.
Last night, while you were sleeping, I was walking through the dark deserted streets of Monterey, drinking rum out of the bottle and saluting passing police while searching for the perfect beach.
Last night, while you were sleeping, I carved a dead girl's name into silver sand.
The last night I had seen her on that beach, the moon had been full, and it had been the exact color of her hair.
There was no moon over Monterey last night, and the sky was black and cold.
Last night, while you were sleeping, I carved my first love's name into a beach made of shattered quartz; I found a beach with sand like broken glass that had been rounded, smoothed, and softened by the sea. And afterwards, I sat on a rock and told her everything. I told her that she was loved, is loved, and will be loved. I told her that she made a stupid choice, and that we understood, and that she made a stupid fucking choice. I told her that she had hurt a hundred people just by letting go of a railing, and that by hurting them, she had made them that much more alive. I apologized (on God's behalf) for the entire shit of the world. I told her that when the race was run, and the game was done, and I had won, that I hoped to see her on the other side.
And I watched the waves rise to wash away her name, and threw my bottle into the sea.
And I made her a promise. I promised that she would be remembered, even as the waves washed her name away.
Rachel Paige Wahl.
She was beautiful, and a brat, and fierce and soft, and determined and confused. She was an asshat, and an angel, and I loved her, love her, and will love her.
Rachel Paige Wahl.
If you forget the name, just think of a boy writing a name on a beach with a stone.
If you forget the name, just know that as the sea washed the sand clean, a silver crescent moon rose over the mountains, and the moon was still the color of her hair.
I promised she'd be remembered.
http://kalischild.livejournal.com/2006/10/18/
Wow. That brought tears to my eyes. I understand exactly how it feels when someone takes their own life and you are caught between being broken hearted and angry. Rest in peace Rachel/Paige. I hope you found it.
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