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“and as i stood there in the funeral home, beside you, resting my hand on your cold one, my head on your chest, which was cold and still, i couldn’t stop thinking, how could someone who was so full of life and light be gone, just like that”

“Somedays I feel overwhelmed that he doesn’t exist. Like, just very suddenly one day he vanished and I will never see him, touch him, hug him, nothing. And it is just very weird because he was just alive. Like, I don’t get it.”

“Grief is really just love. It’s all the love you want to give, but cannot. All that unspent love gathers up in the corners of your eyes, the lump in your throat, and in that hollow part of your chest. Grief is just love with no place to go.”

When it becomes an overt game--hide and seek, freeze tag, Simon Says, push and pull--I will sit out. The older I get, the less interest and energy I feel like giving to such, where you can't win for losing--your patience, your dignity, your sanity along the way.

I just him in the wrong time, wrong place, wrong universe.

“and when the devil walks in you will not recognize him. there are no black horns, no red wings, no giant pitchfork in his hand. he looks just like any other man. he has dark, enchanting eyes that will pull you in close so his lips can spit sickly sweet venom and tell you all the best, wicked lies that you want to hear. his hands will grasp and grab at your neck taking the air from your lungs. but to you he is just caressing; his touch light and fiery. you do not know he is ruining you. and when he’s standing over your lifeless, drained, empty body with a smirk of satisfaction and a low chuckle rumbling in his chest; you will not notice. for the devil is always in disguise and you won’t recognize him until it is too late.”

Being with him is like being high, it feels amazing when he’s around. And when he leaves, he always leaves, I don’t know if or when I might see him again. Inevitably, the high starts wearing off. The reality sinks in and I realize what just happened yet again. And the sad part is, I am always waiting for him to come back. Always. And I know that someday, he won’t.

“no more apology texts. no more reckless highway speeding. no more scribbled poetry in the back of spanish class. there is nothing left to lose. there is nothing left for you. you haven’t seen me since i dyed my hair and it’s nice to have something you didn’t get to ruin. i’m dressing different too and lipsticking my way out of the girl you tore apart. i can finally breathe easy. i can finally be grateful that i never really meant it when i kissed you. look, it’s me without you. look, i’m doing just fine. look, goddamn it, i’m lighter than i’ve been in months. there are seven billion people on the planet. i don’t think you matter so much anymore.”

I might have ended it, but he left me first. He might not have used his words, his actions were enough. I had to leave. It was a matter of self respect.

“I cry for the future we lost But I’ll forever be grateful for the past and memories we have and share. I mourn for what could have been. But I’ll smile for what was. To have been embraced the way I was, held, loved and sheltered… I’ll forever treasure every single moment. We might never see each other ever again but your face, smile, laugh, scent and warmth will forever be an imprint left on my heart.”