if you go, cities will not fall. empires will not crumble, temples will not collapse. citadels will not catch fire; rome will not go up in blazing glory like the sky did on your birthday last july fourth, when you whispered make a wish! and i laughed at youābecause who makes wishes on fireworks?ābut secretly wished with all my heart for you to not be sad anymore. if you go, rain will not drench the world for forty days and forty nights like it does in the chick-flicks we stay up watching until 2 a.m., i never liked those, you know, but you do and i like you. Ā if you go, the earth will keep turning. Ā but. Ā if you go, the boy who sits across from you in math class will hear your name on the loudspeaker, and heāll realize he wonāt have anyone to help him on calc problems anymore but mostly heāll wish that heād talked to you about something other than integrals. if you go, your little sister wonāt have anyone to compliment her drawings even though theyāre masterpieces because sheās too shy to show them to anyone else. if you go, your big brother who claims heās mature because he has a girlfriend will cry until he canāt breathe, and you wonāt even be there to tease him about it. Ā if you go, iāll miss the midnight texting sessions about nothing in particular, the shared peppermint lip gloss, the early morning trading of answers to chemistry problems we were supposed to do last night. iāll miss sitting in the back row of the movie theaters and laughing until my ribs ache even though everybody turns around to glare at us. iāll even miss listening to your staticky voice on the phone whispering help, i donāt think i can do this anymore; iāll miss the rush of relief that comes when i hear you talk because at least that means youāre still here, youāre still hanging on. Ā if you go, nothing big will happen. no stars will explode. no sound, even, except the quiet breaking of all the hearts you left behind.
TO A FADING FRIEND | prose series #2 | inkmagician (via adathornes)
