24
24
It's been five days since your birthday; it would've been your twenty-fourth year. I bet you would've turned to straighteners for those bouncing curls on your head. I bet you'd be working in a beauty salon, giving tips to strangers who'd go home remembering your smile. And I wholly think that you'd be happy.
Some things are best left forgotten, but somehow, even a decade later, I still can't get your face out of my mind. Or the things that you loved. Or how much I truly wish I'd taken your place.
And I know I can't. I know you're gone and you're never coming back. I won't see you again, or hear your husky voice gossiping to me down the phone... and it all seems just a little bit cruel. I only had you for fourteen years. It's selfish to want more with you - but what else could I possibly hope for?
I've spent my time filling the void with meaningless relationships and friends. People who label themselves as such. I know they're not real. That every time they touch me, we share a conversation; things aren't as easy as they were with you. I find myself craving what only you could provide:
Purpose.
I was put here for a reason. I used to think that reason was to make you happy. To make sure we stayed by each other's side through turmoil and laughter. To live a hundred years and hold hands as we entered another realm.
I don't know why I'm here anymore.
I don't know anything - except that if you were here, maybe I'd be a little better. Because that's just who you were. Perfection is an illusion... but I wouldn't mind it if it contained you.
And I can't look for it if it's gone. Taken from me in the blink of an eye. So devoid of drama. One moment you were there, the next a rupture happens and your brain decides to cut off all the cords. They said you most likely didn't feel any pain; it had been peaceful.
But I felt it. I'm still not peaceful. Without you, I might as well give up on that, because ten years have gone by and I still remember everything.
I don't want to.
I don't want this ache. This hollow shell of mine only feels when the subject is you. Do you know how much that sucks? That the only thing I can ever bring myself to care about is the one thing I miss the most?
Miss your runny nose, even in the spring, as you clutched your hot chocolate with a million mini marshmallows. Miss your high-pitched laugh that was like music to my ears - bad music, mind you, but it was yours. Miss the way we'd fight, with food, with fragile things, but ultimately end up embracing.
An embrace so warm it burned out. Now those arms are cold, from the ice in your veins. The broken ice of your eyes. Your everything.
I keep waiting. Wait for it to shatter. For the illusion of your demise to be nothing but a lengthy dream. One where I'll wake up and resume the day. Go into town together like we planned, no fear, no care of anything else but each other.
But it's never going to arrive, is it?
Come August, it will be exactly ten years since you vanished. Most traces of you are gone. I don't speak to your parents, they hate me for being unable to save you - and I'd like for you to know that, in my dreams, I do. I do something different. I'm smarter, quicker, better. I'm a superhero looking to save the only person I ever belonged to.
How unfortunate that this is reality and things like that don't exist.
I need something to help me believe. That you're fine where you are. That you're anywhere, at all, actually. I like to think you are. I want to think that you're watching me right now, encouraging me every step of the way, even though I don't feel you here.
Send me a sign soon? Because, frankly, I'm exhausted and tired of thinking about you. I'm tired of me. This black is suffocating and you're just making it worse, every year. I need to let go of you, I just don't know how. I wish you'd show me, but I guess you're just a ghost now... if that's even possible.
I miss you. And I don't want to anymore. I want you to leave, so I can expand beyond your memory. So, that I can finally be free.
Will I be free of you?
Happy birthday, Marissa.
And, instead of me giving you a present, why don't we switch it so you can award me. Show me clarity today.
Some things are best left forgotten, but somehow, even a decade later, I still can't get your face out of my mind. Or the things that you loved. Or how much I truly wish I'd taken your place.
And I know I can't. I know you're gone and you're never coming back. I won't see you again, or hear your husky voice gossiping to me down the phone... and it all seems just a little bit cruel. I only had you for fourteen years. It's selfish to want more with you - but what else could I possibly hope for?
I've spent my time filling the void with meaningless relationships and friends. People who label themselves as such. I know they're not real. That every time they touch me, we share a conversation; things aren't as easy as they were with you. I find myself craving what only you could provide:
Purpose.
I was put here for a reason. I used to think that reason was to make you happy. To make sure we stayed by each other's side through turmoil and laughter. To live a hundred years and hold hands as we entered another realm.
I don't know why I'm here anymore.
I don't know anything - except that if you were here, maybe I'd be a little better. Because that's just who you were. Perfection is an illusion... but I wouldn't mind it if it contained you.
And I can't look for it if it's gone. Taken from me in the blink of an eye. So devoid of drama. One moment you were there, the next a rupture happens and your brain decides to cut off all the cords. They said you most likely didn't feel any pain; it had been peaceful.
But I felt it. I'm still not peaceful. Without you, I might as well give up on that, because ten years have gone by and I still remember everything.
I don't want to.
I don't want this ache. This hollow shell of mine only feels when the subject is you. Do you know how much that sucks? That the only thing I can ever bring myself to care about is the one thing I miss the most?
Miss your runny nose, even in the spring, as you clutched your hot chocolate with a million mini marshmallows. Miss your high-pitched laugh that was like music to my ears - bad music, mind you, but it was yours. Miss the way we'd fight, with food, with fragile things, but ultimately end up embracing.
An embrace so warm it burned out. Now those arms are cold, from the ice in your veins. The broken ice of your eyes. Your everything.
I keep waiting. Wait for it to shatter. For the illusion of your demise to be nothing but a lengthy dream. One where I'll wake up and resume the day. Go into town together like we planned, no fear, no care of anything else but each other.
But it's never going to arrive, is it?
Come August, it will be exactly ten years since you vanished. Most traces of you are gone. I don't speak to your parents, they hate me for being unable to save you - and I'd like for you to know that, in my dreams, I do. I do something different. I'm smarter, quicker, better. I'm a superhero looking to save the only person I ever belonged to.
How unfortunate that this is reality and things like that don't exist.
I need something to help me believe. That you're fine where you are. That you're anywhere, at all, actually. I like to think you are. I want to think that you're watching me right now, encouraging me every step of the way, even though I don't feel you here.
Send me a sign soon? Because, frankly, I'm exhausted and tired of thinking about you. I'm tired of me. This black is suffocating and you're just making it worse, every year. I need to let go of you, I just don't know how. I wish you'd show me, but I guess you're just a ghost now... if that's even possible.
I miss you. And I don't want to anymore. I want you to leave, so I can expand beyond your memory. So, that I can finally be free.
Will I be free of you?
Happy birthday, Marissa.
And, instead of me giving you a present, why don't we switch it so you can award me. Show me clarity today.