Remembering
Remembering.
I suppose it would be a generalization to say that everyone goes through this at some point. That everyone loses the person they loved more then life itself. But, I believe I'm right, and it makes me feel like I'm not going through this bitter loss alone, and I can take what little comfort I can from that.
But, knowing I'm not alone isn't enough to get me through the night, or enough to mend my broken heart. I always seem to find myself feeling so lost, and so scared. Without him, I can't think, I can't feel, I can't see.
I can only remember.
Remember him, and the way he made me feel.
So day after day, night after night, I sit in my room, huddled under my blankets, and remember him. Remember his face, and his voice, and the silent ways he said 'I love you'. And, in the week that has passed, I haven't eaten, or slept much. My body seems so reject the idea of food, and had found it unimportant as soon as I learned that he wasn't going to make it. Sleep is something I try to avoid all together, because in my dreams I can't remember him, and the night terrors I thought I had conquered come back to life. My voice seems to have left me as well, for the only time I've spoken in the week without him is when I call his name out in the middle of the night, hoping by some miracle he'll come back to me,and hold me close in his arms. Although, I know it won't happen. I know he isn't coming back. No amount of wishing,praying, or crying can change that.
Sometimes I wonder why he had to die, and leave me here all alone.
Was it because we were so much in love that one of us had to leave because the world would never be ready for it? Or was it because things were just too perfect, that they had to come crumbling down? .. I don't know. Perhaps I never will.
I doubt any love could rival ours. Ours was the truest of all loves, and it was sweet and untainted by the cruelness of the real world. Our love was innocence in its purest form, and it knew no bounds. It was unlike any other, and it was more passionate and more beautiful then the couples on TV, and I felt as if it was more real and true then the love that my parents shared. Our love was amazing in every sense of the word, and it felt so right and natural to be with him. With each passing second I could only love him more, and just a simple look in his eyes would tell me he felt the same. I knew as soon as the words escaped my lips that I was born to tell him I love him, and I was ecstatic that I was the one that got that privilege.
I loved him.
I still love him.
But, knowing I'm not alone isn't enough to get me through the night, or enough to mend my broken heart. I always seem to find myself feeling so lost, and so scared. Without him, I can't think, I can't feel, I can't see.
I can only remember.
Remember him, and the way he made me feel.
So day after day, night after night, I sit in my room, huddled under my blankets, and remember him. Remember his face, and his voice, and the silent ways he said 'I love you'. And, in the week that has passed, I haven't eaten, or slept much. My body seems so reject the idea of food, and had found it unimportant as soon as I learned that he wasn't going to make it. Sleep is something I try to avoid all together, because in my dreams I can't remember him, and the night terrors I thought I had conquered come back to life. My voice seems to have left me as well, for the only time I've spoken in the week without him is when I call his name out in the middle of the night, hoping by some miracle he'll come back to me,and hold me close in his arms. Although, I know it won't happen. I know he isn't coming back. No amount of wishing,praying, or crying can change that.
Sometimes I wonder why he had to die, and leave me here all alone.
Was it because we were so much in love that one of us had to leave because the world would never be ready for it? Or was it because things were just too perfect, that they had to come crumbling down? .. I don't know. Perhaps I never will.
I doubt any love could rival ours. Ours was the truest of all loves, and it was sweet and untainted by the cruelness of the real world. Our love was innocence in its purest form, and it knew no bounds. It was unlike any other, and it was more passionate and more beautiful then the couples on TV, and I felt as if it was more real and true then the love that my parents shared. Our love was amazing in every sense of the word, and it felt so right and natural to be with him. With each passing second I could only love him more, and just a simple look in his eyes would tell me he felt the same. I knew as soon as the words escaped my lips that I was born to tell him I love him, and I was ecstatic that I was the one that got that privilege.
I loved him.
I still love him.