I'm only happy when it rains
I'm only happy when it's complicated
And though I know you can't appreciate it
I'm only happy when it rains

*********************************************

I miss her.

Crazy, isn't it? How many months had it been since I had said a word to her, how many lifetimes? But I miss her. I miss seeing her out of the corner of my eye. I miss the reminder it gave me, the horrible sharp pain in my chest. I miss that shot of guilt and pity.

Pain when it's quick is almost like pleasure.

And I would lie awake, thinking of Tess, dwelling on the remorse and self-loathing that floods me. I would picture her with Kyle, picture her crying, picture her dead. And I would promise myself that the next day, the very next day, I would go talk to her.

I didn't. I never meant to. A conversation would be too long, too much, and I need to space all of the hurting out. I have to ration it so it will last forever, these little things, and I'll be dead before I run out.

It's not only Tess, either. There are other things I think of, my father, my future, terrible things I've said to my mother and things she's said to me. But that hardly hurts at all, now. Tess works much better.

Or she did.

Tess is dead. Gone as quickly as she came. And I miss her.

I love missing her.

I never talked to her, never walked into her dreams or her house. But I think she understood me. I think she knew what it was like to throw yourself to the lions just to feel their teeth. Why else did she even try, with Max, with Isabel?

Why do I try with Michael?

He's mad at me again. Mad because I bring up Tess, because I want to talk about her, and he hates rehashing the past. He was mad at Tess, too. I don't think she liked it as much as I do.

She cut her wrists the way you're supposed to if you're serious about killing yourself - along the vein, not across your arm. I learned that from an after-school special about how suicide is selfish and teenagers shouldn't do it.

Cutting hurts a lot. I didn't learn that from the special.

I'm afraid that I'm getting desensitized, less vulnerable to myself. Lately, Tess's name alone doesn't do it for me. I have to think of what we did to her, think of her tears, before my guilt is overwhelming enough to satisfy me.

I have to give more and more to Michael, enough so that it hurts every time he rejects me as much as it did when I was sixteen.

I have to think of something new.

Liz used to make fun of Tess, before the funeral. If we saw a girl wearing a really tiny red top, she would whisper a name in my ear and giggle like it was clever. When I curled my hair, she would raise her eyebrows and say "Going for the Tess look today?" and I would laugh and say "Maybe I am," and that night Michael wouldn't even notice and later I would throw up without even trying to.

Now Liz won't say her name either. No one will. Kyle glares, and Max sulks, and Isabel cries, but none of them will talk about it.

Tess liked talking everything over. I remember that from before we lost contact completely. Maybe she would have talked to me.

Maybe all of the blood gushing out of you at once is better than little by little. Maybe she needed Kyle to be a little less understanding. Maybe I'm full of it tonight. My chest certainly feels close enough to bursting.

Who am I kidding? She didn't want what she got, just like my mom didn't. She couldn't see what she was doing. Now that she's dead, I think that I knew her.

Maybe if I knew her the pain would last longer.

Please, don't let the hurt fade just yet. Tess is all the weapon that I've got left, my grief is all there is of her now. Don't let her fade away so fast...

I'm almost numb already. I don't deserve to be numb this soon, maybe ever.

I'm sorry, Tess. I know you wanted to hurt me. I just wish you had done a better job.

*********************************************

I'm only happy when it rains
I feel good when things are going wrong
I only listen to sad sad songs
I'm only happy when it rains.