You’ve made me bitter and angry. At times, more tender and sweet than I’ve ever been before or would ever admit to being but mostly just so fucking bitter. When I speak to people, I quickly become filled with irrational hatred towards them for not being you. I should want to get rid of that feeling but it makes me feel closer to you, hating people. Don’t worry, in your absence I’m embracing your false sense of superiority that I find idiotic in other teenagers but somehow always found beautiful in you.
Even in death you do to me what no one else could. I try to look pretty when I get ready for bed because I sit in the dark imagining you’re holding me. Then I cry for hours until I’m just lying blank faced, not knowing what to do with myself. I read to occupy my mind until I eventually fall asleep at around 3 am. I wake up exhausted, going through the day looking forward to the night when I can be alone with you again. I know it’s unhealthy, but reality feels so dull, and I’m scared that if I let myself love reality my memories of you will slip away and I won’t love you anymore.
No one else had ever particularly caught my attention. For lack of more romantic reasoning, everyone else always seems full of shit. I’m full of shit around anyone but you. In no way am I grown up and with you I let myself be childish and girly, I’m pretty sure you’re the closest I’ll ever get to being swept off my feet. Every moment you were with me you wanted to be holding my hand. It wasn’t because you were possessive of me, it was because you so genuinely enjoyed my company, and it was because I so genuinely enjoyed yours that I let you. I remember how we would always pass notes in class, it was so pure and sweet and made me happy like nothing else. Now I treasure those notes more than anything I own; I keep touching the paper hoping to feel your fingers in mine. Whenever we shared a kiss you would gingerly put your hands on my waist and I would have to get on my tiptoes to reach your lips. Never in my life have I believed in God or an afterlife, but I find myself desperately hoping there is one so that I can kiss you again.
I’ve always thought of myself of kind of a realist but when you died I realized that I’m actually quite naïve. So many people die everyday, and it’s almost always a tragic thing, but I can’t help but feel that you no longer being on this earth is just horribly unfair. I feel like a child who’s had her toy taken away from her and is throwing a tantrum. I know that other people loved you too but in the fantastic mental world that we created together you were just mine. Full in love we were happy to care too much about each other and not enough about anyone else. I was and still am obsessed with the way you touched me. Your fingertips grazed across my arms and back, leaving the skin both icy and warm, and me so content that I was petrified to make a move so as not to change anything. You looked at me and the corners of your mouth turned up so slightly, but I felt your smile so deep inside of me. I’m a pretty confident person but as you know better than anyone I’m sad and bored a lot of the time. My sad, bored, and lost self would often need reassurance, but before I met you any reassurance I got was shallow and unsatisfying. Your comforting meant the world to me, it made me feel strong and safe. Simply being in your arms made me feel not only like I was adequate, but incredible. I felt like because you were incredible and because you loved me so much there must be something a little incredible about me.
So far you’ve been in my dreams every night. In them you’re alive, and those moments are beautiful, but they’re not real and they make me too sad when I wake up and have to face the world without you. I can’t decide whether I’m desperately grateful to my subconscious for being able to recreate you so vividly or whether I just want you out of my head for one fucking second. I was never big on being very lovey or romantic, you were. I was the one that liked to talk to you about old music, you were the one that told me you were never going to forget me and asked me to do the same. I thought it was sweet that you would get offended if I ever pulled my hand away from yours, but it was also very telling of your character. So maybe this is your fault, that I can’t stop hurting and crying, maybe it’s some kind of guilt that you’d unintentionally planted inside of me. People tell me to stop crying because you wouldn’t want to see me cry. It’s strange because I actually think if you could see me, you would want to see me cry this much for you. Not for any twisted sadistic reason but because you’d like how much I cared about you.
I love you so much, I do, probably more than I’ll ever love any other boy, and there’s no way I’ll ever forget you or stop thinking about you, but you’re driving me insane. I need you to let me stop feeling so much pain. I’m not talking to some spiritual version of you, as much as I’d like to, I don’t believe that exists; I’m talking to the part of you that still exists inside me, and I’m begging you to let go just a little bit. I need to stop fantasizing about finally seeing you in the afterlife; it’s too painful to have my most intense hope and desire be something so abstract and probably not even real. I can’t tell where I am with this, some days it doesn’t hurt that badly, but some days I’m still in denial about you, and then I remember and it hurts like a part of my body is missing.
Adding up all the pain and confusion that knowing you has caused me, it’s still given me more happiness and love. I start thinking about you being so angry at you for not being more careful, but end up just wanting to thank you. Thank you for being the kindest person I’ve ever known, thank you for making me feel so connected to another person, thank you for being so worthy of my trust, thank you for being mature when I was not, and thank you so much for seeing all of these things in me. Although I slightly resent you for single handedly turning me into a romantic, you were more than worth every obnoxiously lovey thing I ever said to you.
Age 15, Grade 10
Hunter College High School