Dear Paige

Dear Paige,

I’m not too sure why I’m writing this, you’re obviously never going to read it. People keep telling me it might help to let this out, but I guess I just don’t want to come to terms with the fact that you’re gone. I keep hoping that you’ll just turn up on my doorstep and tell me that it’s all a joke, but I know that’s not going to happen, because we all know how bad you were at pranks.

I always remember that one time you turned up at our apartment with Zayn, the pair of you telling me you were moving in together, and that you were leaving me for my band mate. I never told you this, but I believed it for a good 30 seconds. I believed it until I saw you turn and crack a smile, not being able to hold it in anymore.

It’s been quite a while since you left, 103 days to be exact. Every day seems to drag on without you. I sit and wait every Sunday night for you to text me to come pick you up from dance rehearsal, and when it gets to midnight and nothing comes through, that’s when I find myself opening the cabinet of spirits. I’ve tried to stop, I really have. The boys have even tried to get me to stop, but I just can’t. I end up with an empty bottle of whiskey and a mind filled with thoughts of you.

I remember how you used to bite on the ends of your sleeves when you felt nervous, that was when I knew to put my arm around your waist to let you know I was there. I wanted to protect you from anything and everything. I remember how we’d spend hours on the weekend just laying in bed, sharing lazy kisses and talking about the future. You used to tell me how you wanted to study dance at Julliard, but you were scared you weren’t good enough. I had so much faith in you and your dreams; I really was your biggest fan. I knew that you were destined for such great things.

I remember how your front teeth used to sit slightly over the top of your bottom lip, it was my favourite thing about you, even though you constantly claimed it was your biggest insecurity. I remember how I could always calm you down when you got mad, I’d grab your hands and rub my thumb gently along the inside of your wrist. You were the only person I knew who had a sensitive spot there, you really were one in a million, and that’s what the doctor said, right? There was a one in a million chance of you surviving longer than two months.

It was only two weeks into those two months when everything started to go downhill. All I wanted to do was appreciate the time you had left, even though I kept telling myself that time was running out. We argued more in those two weeks than we had the whole 3 years we’d been together. I remember that one night, we had such a petty argument, but it was the one that made me realize how delicate you really were. I remember making us dinner and told you to sit down whilst I cleaned the kitchen afterwards, which for some reason made you angry. You started to scream at me, telling me you weren’t a kid, just ‘someone with a disease who doesn’t have much longer left’, you remember that, right? You got so worked up that you fainted and ended up back in hospital for the night. I sat by your bed that whole night, I couldn’t understand why you were mad. All I wanted to do was protect you. I didn’t like thinking about losing you, I wanted to believe you weren’t going anywhere. Six weeks later and you were gone.

I played our song at your funeral, you know? I didn’t think I was able to do it, but I did, and I hope you’re proud of me. The whole time I thought about our one year anniversary, the night replaying in my mind like polaroids. I’d taken you to see Ed Sheeran, knowing how much you adored him. You smiled throughout the whole show, and I remember just watching you, not believing how someone could be so beautiful. Ed dedicated his closing song to us, and that’s how it became ours.

“Give a little time to me, or burn this out. We’ll play hide and seek to turn this around. All I want is the taste that your lips allow. My, my, my, my, give me love.”

You held my hand throughout it and the kiss we shared afterwards was one of the most intimate we ever had. Even in a room full of people, you had me and I had you and that was the only thing that mattered to us.

I know you won’t want to hear this, but a few weeks back, on your birthday, I was determined to join you, I guess you could say I was a little gone beyond repair. I had it all planned out, a bunch of pills and a bottle of vodka. I was nearly there, you know? I was so close to you, I could feel you right beside me, but you weren’t happy. You gave me a look I’d only ever seen you give to the people you despised, and then you disappeared as my phone started to vibrate. It wasn’t anyone calling to check up on me, no one seems to do that anymore, but it was a reminder for your birthday. The alarm was our song.

“Give me love like her, cause lately I’ve been waking up alone.”

I don’t know how I managed to do it, but I got rid of the pills. I called Louis and he took me to hospital. The boys are determined to keep a close watch on me after that, but I don’t ever want to try it again. You don’t know it, Paige, but you saved me. That day showed me that no matter how bad it gets, I need to stay here because I know you’re looking over me.

I guess what I’m trying to get at is that I miss you – I really fucking do – and now that you’re gone, I feel like I never showed you how much you meant to me. Maybe one day when I finally come and meet you up there, I’ll bring this letter and you’ll understand. You mean the world to me, you always have done and you always will.