Optimistic, Live-For-The-Moment, Firey-Eyes, Sleeping Beauty, Apologetic and Fantasy

Mister Optimistic,

What's glowing in my mind like it were yesterday is the moment we started truly hanging out together -- like actually enjoying each other's company for what we learned it to be. Honestly, those were the highlights of my life. I never enjoyed living as much as I did when I was with you.

After you cheered me up when I needed it, my life was on a permanent high as long as you were in eyes reach. That's what it felt like at the time.

We didn't even have to be doing anything. Simply knowing that you were sitting across from me in our own silent worlds in our head, I had more fun than I did when I went out spending money. I fell in love with living if you were around, and that was an experience I didn't know people actually felt.

I couldn't believe it was real.

And it was even better when we spent time out together. You spent time with my family, and got to know them well. You treated my cousins like gold, as if they were your own siblings, while others didn't because of false rumors they've heard and prejudice, including my own girlfriend. You took everyone in and we bonded as if we knew each other our entire life. My family adored you to shreds, and when it comes to me, it's hard for them to like anyone. That says a lot.

My favorite memory was when we explored the caves. We did this twice. It was filled with ice cold water that could cover our heads once we sacrificed ourselves from the rocks, and I got to see you roam free. You're the adventurous type when you want to be, but only to the extent it was appropriate.

What I mean by that is even though you were technically the guest in the area, and were on a vacation of your own, you watched over me cautiously, being sure I didn't miss a step or that I even knew how to swim, questions you wouldn't ask if you didn't care.

I loved especially that you were comfortable in your own skin. You didn't dress yourself in swim wear to brag about how perfect your body is or anything of the like, but it's your humility that allowed you to focus fully on splashing around like an elementary school child, cooling off after a hot day. You didn't settle for the distraction of putting yourself up on a pedestal.

That made you sexier.

You encouraged me to do the same, and in fact, you wouldn't allow us to leave until you were certain that I had fun. I'm the type of person that usually needs that extra push in order not to turn into a buzzkill, and you were nice about it when you did it too. It was gentle and it moved me to have a remembrance I wouldn't have had otherwise.

I think you made me a better person, and I can see it now that that's what a real friend or partner is supposed to do. Of the many offers I lost because I was too afraid, if I would've had you earlier, I know that you wouldn't urged me to pursue to my fullest capability.

So, like you did for me on those days at the caves, I'm going to make it my life motto. From here on out, I will make sure to chase after every goal that I have, and realize that the worst that can happen is failure, which isn't a big deal in the least.

I know I have to take the dive if I want to get anywhere, and if I do reach a new depth that I thought I couldn't, even though you're gone, I'm going to think of you.

And I'm going to give you the credit for reaching such heights.

I wish we could go back there and take a swim though. I wish I can relive that chapter one more time.

But at least I took something from it.

More people needed to learn from you before you passed away. I know that because I still haven't learn as much as I could've from you.

-C.L

-

Mister Live-For-The-Moment,

There's a saying I've heard a few times in novels or in movies that might as well stab me in the chest, it's irritating scriptwriters try to make it make sense. It's stupid, I'd say.

The script speaks something along the lines of, "I love him!" or any verb in the present tense, only for the character to correct themselves with for example, "I loved him," as in the past tense. Why do they stop loving just because the person has passed?

It's untrue. Far from accurate for sure.

Because we love, that's why we hurt when we lose someone. I care about you, and that's why I miss you. It'll always be like that. That's not subject to change.

We might not live forever as of now, but we love in every moment, even when we sleep, and that goes both ways, for you and for me, whether our documents have a deceased date or not.

You're alive and I care about you.

You passed and I still do. Maybe more. Maybe I properly reflect on the little things I didn't catch onto before. It's dumb that it takes death for a person to realize some of the little things, but it happens. We look back on things differently. I hate that, but at least I can say that you've taught me lessons to an extreme that I'll never trade for even a diamond.

I know movies and novels tend to be unrealistic, but saying a phrase like that makes it worse, to an extent that it's made clear that writer never lost someone they were close to, and I despise that.

Not only does it become unbelievable, but there's no way to establish connects to the plot once they say a disgrace of a phrase. I don't think Hollywood understands pain. There's distinct opposites from the hurt you feel in your heart watching a wealthy couple fall apart, and the sorrow you feel when you can't get back what you want the most, or you feel like a failure for telling yourself you could've better shown what the worth of a person when you had the chance, but didn't.

Hollywood will never understand what you were to me, and I doubt that anything out there has the ability to express it either.

Nobody knows what it's like to hear news that makes your stomach fall right into the base of your toes, and then your heart right into the pit of your stomach. They don't know unless they felt it themselves, and it can't be portrayed by made up characters with the most sudden plot twists of any ever known.

It can only be portrayed by the cramps building up in the muscle that people felt when they attended your funeral, and they saw that the casket at the front of the room made this nightmare real and something we had to live with.

It can only be portrayed by the way our blinks change feeling when our last tear has run dry and there's no more that our body can produce, because your sister stood up to say words at said funeral, and couldn't get through her sentences.

It can only he portrayed by the exhaustion we carry, when we suddenly have to carry the world on our shoulders a little more, because it registers in our brain that you're not here anymore to help us hold it up.

And one thing is for sure, that I must emphasize it getting across for a last time.

With true love, there is no past tense.

Hollywood will never get it.

-C.L.

-

Mister Firey-Eyes,

I can still imagine the darkness of your pupils that would draw any person in like a deep endless abyss. The night was pitch black, and yet, the campfire we set up at the shore reflected in those browns of yours, and for the first time I made a change.

I didn't find attraction in blues and greens like I used to. I didn't find attraction in any color, actually. I found heat in your features and your features only, so much that I genuinely believed that I didn't need anything else besides your eyes to look into, and the more forbidden you became for me, the more I wanted to look at you like that mystery fruit in the Garden of Eden.

You were definitely something. I just couldn't put my finger on what, and when the white sand contrasted against those dark eyes, I was more desperate to figure that out.

Regardless, that night was a good one. We laughed like there was no tomorrow, making up jokes that if brought up again today, wouldn't make any sense, but that we for some reason at the time found funny. The moon against the ocean made the water sparkle, and every time the tide would come crawling the slightest bit toward my feet, you'd scream like a little girl.

You weren't even really freaked out about it. Heck, I didn't ever think you were. You spent most of your life on an island, and I watched the passion you had with swimming just the other day. It was the dumbest lie you could come up with, but you said later on you only did it because I found it funny.

We learned about each other then that in one tiny basic way we're the same. When something is minorly funny, we laugh loudly, but when we find it so funny we double over and our stomachs hurt, we might be crying literal tears, but no sound would come out.

We're weird like that, and I think that's beautiful. That's a connection unlike any other. Somehow though, and I can't say exactly why, that connection led to something else. Something deeper, and more profound. It was getting late, and I guess there's a treasure in tired eyes that moves you to share your deepest of secrets.

You told me about your private life. The struggles you went through and how you felt alone through your trials, or adjusting to normals you didn't want to be normal. It threw a dart at the bottom of my heart, which happened to be the weakest part, and I began to see you as a human with painful scars and thousands of tears, rather than the perfect-life sort of person that you present yourself to be.

It must've been hard being that strong, and I'm sorry you had to go through that.

I told you about myself too, mostly things that I never told anybody else before because I felt comfortable enough that you wouldn't judge me, and you never did either. I was right to trust you with the most sensitive of things, and I'm honored that you trusted me.

In the moment, there was a question on my mind that I thought I wouldn't dare get an answer of: are you telling me these things because you need a release and I live far away, taking these secrets to a place that doesn't know your face, or because you genuinely want me to know?

Because you genuinely want to be real with me?

But it was the last words you said that night that rung in my ears everyday for so long, it became my alarm, and it made me decide that maybe the right answer was the latter.

"There's something that you're not understanding though," was how you started it out.

"You're the most gorgeous person I've ever met," was how you finished.

I didn't know what to make of it.

I didn't know what to do.

-C.L.

-

Mister Sleeping Beauty,

The day of your funeral was horrendous, and I cannot stress that enough. I know, you'd probably say -- or anyone would say actually -- that that's a given. I mean, a person dying and ceasing to exist from then on out isn't something to party about. It's the worst day a person could ever fathom, if they can manage to fathom it at all.

I couldn't. That's for sure. Not completely at least.

You know what it's like to lose someone. You told me about it before, but I don't think you ever knew that hundreds of people would too soon, be feeling that exact same feeling about you. You knew you were full of life, didn't you? That's why it surprised everyone, even if they only barely passed you by.

If it makes sense, I think it caught you off guard too.

And it's for some reason along those lines that I can't exactly put into words, that I hate the human brain. It can process so much. Some especially talented people go on understand complex equations, deep-thought-based writing, intriguing arts that touch our souls, or statistical facts, while even some came to graduate college at the age of 12.

I understand not just anyone can do this kind of thing, but we share a blueprint in our heads that has this kind of capability in some shape or form -- it's complex, isn't it? It's not basic, and yet it blocks us from accepting the reality of loss and it holds us back from healing.

I get it. It's a way to cope, but still. Sometimes our way of coping makes things more painful. It's extra intense, and it lasts much too long.

I saw you laying in that casket. There's no disease in the world that's going to let me forget about that, and so I saw it myself -- you lying there, motionless, pale, eyes shut, and hands places presentable at your sides, but I swear at the time, I saw you breathe. Your mouth opened and took a big breath of air. Your chest rose and then it fell shortly after. Color swelled your cheeks. Your eyes even did that thing you always did when you were flustered. Blinked so rapidly, as a pair of butterflies would. It's like you knew our eyes were on you.

And yet, it was an illusion made up in my own mind. A trick I played on myself. I know it was. I can't deny that I was going crazy. You were already dead for two days at that point. It was already fact, set in stone, but there was no way I was moving on.

I couldn't believe it. We have so many memories together. I always did my very best to support you because I knew that you supported me. I saw a ton of your firsts and I was so proud of you for every milestone that you ever gripped a hold of so tightly because you were soaring to the heights you spoke about so enthusiastically.

It felt so right. It's like the world paved this pathway just for us.

How can so much change so fast in every wrong way possible? Why can things go from good to bad so dang quickly, but a bad thing becoming good, or at least being overcame take way too long?

Why can't you come back?

I need you more than I let myself believe.

-C.L

-

Mister Apologetic,

There's that common quote that I'm suddenly liking to recall. The one that says that scars tell stories? I always agreed with it. It's true that a memory comes to mind when you look at a scar on your body. It might be about where you were and how it happened or whatever other details that exist and honestly, I hated that.

But I don't anymore. If I'm being truthful, all I hate now is that I ever did. That means that I wasted time irritated with you when I could've gotten closer to you.

When we were coming home from a bonding, do you remember that time that you crashed my motorcycle while I was riding as your passenger?

It's pretty funny looking back on it. My family asked me after it happened why I didn't better brace myself for that fall, and as stupid as it sounds it was because even when the bike went unstable and I could feel that you lost control, I had total trust in you that I believed that I wouldn't be injured. I just had the feeling that I was safe and secure.

I don't know how to explain it, but you have this aura or vibe about you that makes the others around you feel protected. That's one of the things I miss the most about you.

I don't think I'll feel that way again.

I never actually told anyone why I didn't get my hands out in front of me faster, though. I still find it a bit embarrassing that I trusted you so much I didn't believe an accident could happen, because it would be more reasonable to be ready for anything, but in a setting like this I don't feel I need to lie about it. I get it, I'm an idiot, but there's nothing I can so about it now, can I?

You were freaked out when we got back to our house. You didn't really say anything besides a quiet, "are you okay?" when we managed to continue the commute, but I could see it in your eye -- you were absolutely petrified, especially to approach my relatives, which is understandable when I was bleeding down my leg. I would be too if I were you.

I don't really remember you apologizing. I never heard the words "I'm sorry" come out of your mouth at all, I don't think, but it was a heavy moment of actions speak louder than words without a doubt.

You cleaned my wounds voluntarily, and made sure they were each bandaged up as carefully and gently as you possibly could. It warmed my heart, if I have to admit. I don't think I've ever felt the beat in my chest be so hard. It was as if a drum was being pounded behind my rib cage. Even if it burned and ached, for a quick moment, I think I fell for you in secret.

Especially after you mumbled a little prayer that it wouldn't leave a scar.

Well, maybe I haven't told you this yet, but guess what? I'm sorry. It did, and while the wound was still open and I got over that heavy beating in my chest, I started to resent you the tiniest bit, at the time.

The two on my knee were just fine. I think every kid that actually lived already had a bunch of scars there, so it wasn't much of an addition, but the one right at the spot where my foot bends every time to take a step, meaning the scab would pop open every time I walked? Yeah, that was a terrible experience.

You suck for putting me through that, man.

But it's okay. I'd take it again if I had to if it means you were here. I'd take it millions.

I'm proud of these scars now. I'm proud because it's the man of my dreams that bandaged them up and wished them to heal, an experience that not just any person got to have, no matter how much they adored you.

I'm proud because now I can look down at the flaws on my legs and see proof that our paths crossed -- making them flawless.

I'm proud because these scars came from you.

I'm proud of you, crush.

-C.L

-

Mister Fantasy,

This is really bad to think about, and of course, you would be the one to tell me that if you were here to say it to my face, but sometimes I can't help myself. Especially when it's one in the morning and I can't fall asleep because I'm missing you so much, I feel like somehow it was my fault that you're gone.

I know that you didn't leave because you chose to. One early morning, your heart that's been loyal to you all your life bailed on you, and that's not anyone's fault. It's the injustice of this wicked system. I keep trying to tell myself that too, but I guess I need someone to blame for it, and when I can't find anyone I choose myself.

I live far away from you. It's not like I was nearby to discover you and get you transported to the hospital a bit earlier than what happened. I'm not a medical professional. Even if I was there, I couldn't do anything any better than anyone else did. I'm not someone in a position to make a single difference in what went down. I couldn't have changed anything.

And yet, I still think down at the root of it, it's my fault.

You know in those sorta-fantasy type of movies when the characters go back into the past and when they change the slightest thing or leave the tiniest of things behind, it always ends up with a drastic and usually tragic change in the future? A difference the size of a golf ball or not even, can cause grenade sized problems that affect people all around the world.

I think too much with a logic like that, as unrealistic as it clearly sounds. I think sometimes that maybe if we never met at all, it could be possible that you'd still be alive. My mindset tells me that I was that golfball of change that suddenly entered your life and that caused an explosion in the world making music in your chest, killing it instantly.

And then I become afraid because then I think of a life where I never met you to begin with, and I despise it. My life isn't the same without the memories we had together. It doesn't even feel right.

I mean, yes, if I never met you, no matter what happened recently I wouldn't even know to feel hurt. I wouldn't have built a connection to you that went six feet deep that would tumble aimlessly if you disappeared, and when you think of it that way, it sounds for the better. This pain that I feel at this tick of time-- I wouldn't anymore. I wouldn't at all.

But that would also mean that I'd have no idea who you are and I don't see who I could've possibly became either. You molded me into the person I was supposed to be. The one I wanted to be but that I was hesitant to step up to and take on. If I don't know you, I don't think I'd know the me I live as today.

If I knew you could still be alive right now if we never met, I would have to step back and avoid you if I went back in time. I'd have to, and imagining that is scary, but if I decided to be selfish and meet you anyway even if I knew what was coming, that's scary too.

Scarier.

I knew the world was dark, evil, and spooky, but I didn't know it was this bad.

You were more of a light in this darkened world than I chose to see, but there's no way in rejecting such an idea now that I've noticed.

You're the light I've needed all along, and now that the flame has been blown out and I can't find you, I'm certain I am lost.

I don't know what happiness means.

You taught me what it is, but I haven't mastered it yet. You can't go. Not this soon.

I need your help. Your guidance. Your advice.

Oh, why world, do we only miss someone when they're gone?

-C.L