I wish I could have saved him.

I think that if I had, I would have saved so much of myself as well.

Now we both just float.

So much of that dead weight gone.. but it was not lifted, it was not freed.

No. it was lost.

I can't speak for him.

Lord knows, as much as we are alike, we are so very different.

His mind, it divides at different volumes..

it halts at harsher speeds.

That's why this pain, the way it used to hit me, and the way it is hitting me right now.

Right this second, taking control of, and over my livelihood..

I know that it's that same pain that has got him by the throat.

It's the same pain that is putting an end to his time.. and therefore putting an end to ours.

But it's all coming together finally..

I was even told once that all ends meet somewhere.

But if that's true.. then tell me, how is a loose end born?

I think I know.

I think he is my loose end.

The one that'll never be put to rest. Not even after his own life is below the soil..

I can see it now.

A far less than perfect picture.

One my mind paints skillfully,

making me anxiously uncomfortable with every brush stroke I manage to invent.

And somehow, his name still sparks something deep within me.

It moves at that pace that keeps me at my knees, ringing throughout me..

even as I read it off a gray slate of surrender, of self sabotage.. of self defeat;

I'd be the girl who never left the grave.

Her mourning becoming second nature far more then she'd settled for.

Cheap looks would always be sent my way from the eyes of the bystanders.

Those blurry faces in the background, looking up at me, glaring as if my cigarette smoke were somehow a statement.

A sign painted in white fog that danced around me.

Inviting more death.

Welcoming more grief.

So I'd try just to smile.

Smile, and forget.

I know that they too are driven only by their own overwhelming loss.

But I'd be the girl they feared.

The girl who'd been draped in all black, long before she became that unwed widow.

The girl who had conversations with his bones, as if they could hear my heart dancing for him.

Yes, I'd be her.

Slowly becoming overgrown with those flowers.

The ones that had reminded me what it felt like to stare in his eyes.

At times it feels I'm already there, missing him.

It feels as though I'm already alone.

I guess it makes good practice.

He's different.

Much different than any guy I've encountered.

He's quiet.

Very quiet than any guy I've met.

He's mysterious.

Mysterious than any person I've seen.

He's unique.

So unique that he almost reminds me of the characters from my books.

And he's beautiful.

So much beautiful than a glowing angel,

even if it seems he's covered in darkness.

Like many of us he's had a troubled past.

He's been abused,

hurt,

neglected,

judged,

bullied,

and alone his whole life.

After years of being tortured and alone,

he refuses to talk to anyone.

Anyone except me.

He trusts me because I'm the first to actually listen,

instead of judge.

He's around me because I'm the first to actually accept him,

instead of denigh him.

He runs to me because I'm the first to actually save him,

instead of leave him to suffer alone.

and he cares for me because I cared first,

rather than be among the many to abandon him.

I love him.

I love him because he's the only person who accepts me,

the only person who knows what's it's like to be different,

the only person who's always there to comfort me,

the only person who's not among the many to hurt and betray me,

the only person who lights my darkest hour,

even if he's covered in darkness himself,

and the only person who loves me for who I am and will never ever break my heart.

Nobody can have him.

Nobody can see him.

Nobody can hear him.

And nobody can touch him.

Nobody except me.

Message:

That's the type of guy I've always wanted. Not exactly dark and bad boy, but someone who would accept me for who I am. Lines 45-59 is what I want my true love to be. Someone who's not perfect, but is willing to fix his mistakes to be with me. To be with me because he wants to and truly loves me.

I thought I could share since this is a first. I never really shared something personal like this before.

Today it's One of those days that I want to give up

One of those days that I don't want to continue besides you

Because you make me feel that I'm wasting my time

Doesn't matter whatever I do to try to make you happy

I don't feel your happy besides me

My love for you it's so deep and strong and irrational

But in the same time it's strong enough to understand and accept that you don't feel the same

Today I choose to let it go

I choose to take my way to a new life

With pain in my heart I do it because for me you are the most beautiful love that I ever had

Be happy I wish you the best of luck 

I stare at my face in the mirror, perplexed by my complexion. I look like neither my mom nor my dad, with arching eyebrows and brownish hair. My life has always been a routine before this: get up, do stuff, sleep, repeat. I was never much of a dreamer, never wasted my time on wishes. I got used to the bore in everyday life; it became a comfort to me. I never thought it would come to this. 

I still haven't been able to find anyone else left. I just woke up one Monday, and everyone was gone. After screaming till my lungs gave up, I decided to try to find people myself. I've been across 10 states so far these 3 weeks, hardly slept as I drove in my dad's old pick-up truck (the only car that seems to be left). At first, it was heartbreaking. Confusing. Overwhelming. What can I say? But I've learned to grow accustomed to the silent hum of nature. The animals are gone. I'm the last one left.

It won't be long till my fresh food provisions run out. Then, I'll have to live off cans, probably. I've been hoping to find someone else here, but like most things nowadays, it's pretty improbable. I stink like hell. This whole week, I haven't showered or even changed clothes. What's the point? I'm greeted by a sign that reads, "You've arrived in Montana". And from far off, I hear a hoarse scream that brings me to attention. It sounds oddly human. Hope restored, I step on the gas pedal as hard as I can and speed down the deserted road.

Her name was Alex

And she changed the world

Her cancer was incurable

She died at only 8 years old

But she left a legacy

That few of us will

You taunt me at night,

Your anger still so wasted, 

Your malice is vile, 

My hands, dry, lay clean, bloodless,

I'd do it again, smiling.