Tell Lies

    The story I am about to tell you is one hundred percent true. This story is about a girl named Sarah, or more precisely, Sarah's death. Sarah did not live a particularly "normal" life. At least, not the life responsible adults would consider normal. As she made her way through elementary school, Sarah walked the streets of the city. She usually walked alone unless someone she knew spotted her and accompanied her. Sometimes an adult that knew her would walk her home if she didn't run away first. "Where were Sarah's parents?" you may ask. Her mother was dead, and her father was a drunk who took every drug he could get his hands on. When Sarah started fifth grade, her father taught her how to roll joints and cut and line cocaine. He told her that if she prepared everything correctly on a daily basis, she would be safe. After a few years of working for her father, Sarah began to wonder why he liked these substances so much. She knew her father would be too drunk and high to notice if she kept a single joint for herself. And so she did. That night, Sarah took some matches from a kitchen cabinet, went outside, and lit up her first joint.
    In her eighth grade year, Sarah began the habit of writing in a journal. Within, she recalled her first experiences with drugs.She also wrote about her most interesting experiences. Throughout her high school years, Sarah became as experienced as her father, although he didn't notice. She began mixing her drugs. Just two drugs at first, then, using so many at once that she didn't even know she was still on Earth. This is where the last entry of her journal comes in:
    I didn't know where I was. The images I saw were so crisp and clear, but they were blurred together too. There were bright colors everywhere. After a moment, I spotted a door. I approached it as if in slow motion. When I finally got there, I reached for the knob. There wasn't one. I tried pushing on the door, but it wouldn't open. I started hitting it. "Ow!" said the door. "You could just ask me to open for you, you know." I apologized to the door and asked it to please open. When it did, a blast of cool wind whirled around me. I walked through the doorway and saw a rainbow of colors all around me. When I looked down, the ground I was standing on was like a cloud, and I felt like I was walking on air. When I looked up, the sky was golden. I squinted my eyes and tried to focus on everything else. I saw flowers and flowing grass. Then I saw fireflies even though it was daytime. They were big and bright and whizzed by me as if they were headlights on cars. I walked through the field and the fireflies avoided me. I found a cliff high above me. It had tree limbs and vines hanging in front of it. I started climbing them and made my way to the top. I climbed up over the edge, stood up, and turned around to see the speeding fireflies far below me. I saw the wafting mist of the cloudy ground. It looked so soft. I was about to jump into it when I blinding light came from the door I came through. I figured it was time to go back. Next time, I am definitely going to jump.
    Now it is time for me to introduce myself. I am Sarah's father. I've been sober ever since I was given the news of Sarah's death. Her body was found on the sidewalk across the street from our apartment building. The police told me there were so many toxins in her body that they were surprised it was the fall and not the dangerous mixture of drugs that killed her. Now that I have found and read Sarah's journal, I understand why and how she died. The guilt of my irresponsibility will haunt me the rest of my miserable life. I wrote this story so all of you could learn from my mistake. I must go now. Please remember my daughter's story.