Hello, my name is Anna.
Actually, my name is not Anna. Anna is dead. I chose to take on this name, in this space, because I’ve had a lot of difficulty dealing with that fact. It’s a fact.
The story is complicated, and I’m not sure I even want to make it make sense for you (yes you, random clickhole casualty). I wasn’t even going to touch this name, I’ve spent years avoiding this name despite how incredibly common it is.
Anna was an incredibly common woman. We hurt each other (I have to come to terms with the fact that yes, I hurt her too) very badly, in the most common way.
I’m having a hard time here, and as I strongly believe that the only way around is through, I’ll just come out and say it.
She was a friend. And she slept with the man who, despite being a terrible person as we all understandably are, was as close to my soulmate (if you believe that past coincidences should be able to predict the future) as possible. And then she lied to me about it.
And then she killed herself.