I had this friend one warm, beautiful summer. Okay so he was a "boyfriend" and I couldn't stop thinking about him, ever. We would hang out until the horizon gleemed with oranges and pinks. We would call eachother at 5 p.m. and hang up at 4 a.m. It was like a fairytale. But over course, all fairytales have a wicked step-mother or an orge to eat your loves brains out. My ogre was named Crystal, Crytsalline Meth to be exact. I would get high everyday, and drive to my house after and scare my sisters, brother, and mother. I threatened to break up with him if he didn't stop. So he quit...cold turkey. Yet, he seemed to get more and more depressed and lifeless. One day after school I came home to find a suicide note taped onto my door. It said that he loved me, and that he also loved Meth, and it made him happy. So he was going to overdose so he could die in love intead of with hate, and depression. He left a time and place of where he would perish. I didn't have much time. I called his cell and he picked up, high as usual. Dane's last words to me were,"I love you more than a sister, and more than my girl, but I can't die with a like a crushed rose, meant for love but no longer loved."

Dane died two days later. Drug over dose obviously. When I returned home I had a voicemail from Dane's family lawyer...he left me everything he owned including he college fund. Dane, if you can hear me up in heaven, I want you to know that I loved you even though you were sick. I loved you without Meth, even more than when you were on it. I'm sad that you are gone, and sometimes I cry myself to sleep, you left happy. Now I am the crushed rose, meant for love and no one to give it to. I LOVE YOU.