The Letter by mandm

I clutch the small scrap of paper that you had written for me tightly in my hand. Although it was no more than a week old, that piece of paper was all worn out. The measured folds that you had made are soft from my endless re-reading those words that you had written for my eyes only. Words that are imprinted forever in my mind. Don't worry, I'm the only one who has read them.

Each time that I read those words, I found myself searching for answers. Answers to the questions that were still running through my head, answers that I know in my heart that I will never know. Why? That's the one that bothers me the most. It's only three letters but it contains so many unknowns, so many chances.

I read it the letter from you and I see your smiling face staring back at me. The face that is the centre of more than half of the photographs littering my room. The face that so many of my memories are built on. The face that was a big part of my universe, my world. I see all the places that weve been together, all the hugs and tears we shared, all those time that we used words of anger to express our fears. All those times that I wouldn't trade for a billion, no a gazillion dollars. You're worth more than all the money in the world to me.

I know that I should be doing my work, but I'm a slacker. You used to tease me about that all the time. Couldn't figure out how I managed to get higher grades, more promotions than you with half the work. It bothered you, I know, but it didn't make you a worse person. Besides, my work is suffering now. Yes, I can't concentrate on this boring repetitive work. And I find myself getting lost, lost in the past, lost in a place I'm not sure I can escape from.

So, I find myself writing you this letter. I don't really know how to start it, though. There's so much that I want to tell you. So much that's been bothering me, so much that I need to get off my chest. So I'm just going to start writing. Keep it simple. Keep it to the point.

I miss you.

Hell, I'm finding it difficult to go on without you. Mornings weren't the greatest before, but now they're just awful. It seems that when I finally get to sleep, it's time to get up again. Then I realise that you're not going to be there this afternoon to tell me about the weird dream you had, or about the funny thing your cat did. Although, I guess less sleep means less nightmares, ya know?

Days are just wasted time. I have accomplished nothing in the last week. Not a thing. My house has turned into a pig sty. You'd be thoroughly disgusted by now, and would have likely shown up to help me clean. I know how much you hated a dirty place. A place for everything and everything in its place. Not anymore. The pieces are missing and something else is trying to fill the void but not succeeding.

You changed my life in so many ways that there weren't enough letters in the alphabet to thank you. My outlook on life changed the day we became friends. You taught me so much, gave me confidence, showed me that communication and compromised are the keys to a great relationship. You showed me that there were both ups and downs to life, love and friendship. You put up with me and all the emotional baggage that I carried around, eager to help me deal. I guess that's why I'm having a real hard time dealing right now. You're not here to help me with my problems. You've become my problem.

I'm mad at you.

Actually, I'm past mad. I'm furious. How dare you. How could you go and take the easy way out? Why didn't you trust me enough to talk to me, to tell me that you felt as lost and hopeless as I felt? Maybe I could have helped you. Why didn't I pay attention to those signs that now seem so God damn obvious. All those little quirks that you picked up, that I didn't really give a second thought to. And it's bringing tears to my eyes, thinking of life without you. Why? Why do I have to think about living without you? Why does it have to be a reality, not just a horrible dream?

I'm crying again, for about the millionth time in the last day. Is that what you wanted? I don't know anymore. I'm sick of it, sick of the sting of salty tears, sick of looking at my red eyes, sick of this whole thing. I just wish that I'd wake up from this horrible dream and be able to hug you, to tell you about it, to have you tell me it'll all be all right. I've prayed for that, but God doesnt seem to be listening. Why? Nothing will ever be all right again.

I'm trying to live my life on my own, and at times I believe that I'm strong enough to do it. That only happens successfully for about five minutes. Then I'll see something, think of something, hear something that'll remind me of you, and there goes everything. You were one of the most important people in my life. And I'm terrified of life now, of the people around me, of hoping and dreaming, of living. You'll never know how much you've hurt me.

Yet I still love you.

Call me nuts or whatever, but I do. I love you. I love you so much it hurts. You might not have been my blood relative, but I loved you more than something as insignificant as blood. You knew me better and I thought that was important. Do you even know how many people that you've hurt by doing this? Your family, your friends, your acquaintances, neighbours, work associates, my family, us. Were shed enough tears to fill the seas. It's killing your mother, she hasn't stopped crying. Your father just sits there. Neither of them have eaten in days. The rest of your family is in shock too. God, everyone misses you.

But you know that don't you? You know all those words that we couldn't say before. You know how much we love you, how much we miss you, how much we care. You're listening aren't you and watching, you haven't forgotten us down here? It's not much, but it helps to think that. But 'Im going to have to end this letter now. I've got to head out, to see you for one last time before it's all over. I've got a letter to deliver before it's too late.

Love, forever and always,

Me.