When did I think that this could become worse?
When I met you?
When we kissed for the first time?
When I almost told you 'I love you'?
When I became foolish, and ran away?
When I realized that I couldn't be without you for so long?
When I finally came to my senses, and finally ran back to you?
No. Oh no.
Those were far too early than the dread. Dread that this wouldn't- couldn't be saved.
I finally realized that when I saw the tombstone.
It was half-engraved.
Ready for the date of the dead.
Ready for the day you died.
Would I have believed them any other way?
The ones in white coats?
The ones with all the 'physiological knowledge'?
I like to think this so.
I like to think this never happened.
But no; I wouldn't have believed. Not any other way.
I would have slowly driven myself to a padded white room if I hadn't seen the half-engraved tombstone.
No other way-
but to slowly break my heart.
You had up and decided that five years was long enough to finally think that I was never coming home.
Five, long, painful years.
I'm so sorry for that time.
But I can't tell you.
You didn't hear me the first time.
And now you really can't.
I haven't decided yet.
You had found the highest point in the little town we had lived in.
The little, run-down town that rarely saw the bright lights of the city.
The town that didn't even have it's name on the map-
but meant so much to us both.
The place with so many memories of when we grew up. Together.
You found the highest place there, that old clocktower we used to visit when we were teenagers.
Still growing up.
Still learning what to and not to do.
But not still learning how to be ourselves.
We had never been anything other than ourselves around each other.
You were you.
And I was me.
But that makes 'me' different than who 'I' is, doesn't it?
Then I was I.
Or me was me.
Whatever you decide on.
There you thought and thought, consumed in memories.
And, eventually, you decided it was enough.
You had been there for nearly a month now deciding about yourself.
And you couldn't wait for me any more.
You couldn't wait one more day for me.
Just one day.
One thousand, four hundred, forty minutes.
Eighty-six thousand, four hundred seconds.
I agree- that's too long to wait.
Much too long.
But I wish that you had.
They were sure that you'd kill yourself.
They had your tombstone all laid out.
They didn't think you were strong enough to go on.
I'm so sorry.
They had shown me a picture of the stone, with your name at the top.
A small note that read 'Beloved friend, family member, and lover.'
Your birthday underneath that, but a small dash with nothing beyond it.
They were so sure.
They thought that even if they stopped you, you would just find another way.
But they didn't know you!
They didn't know!
And you fell, and not less than three small seconds later, you were gone.
Never to come back.
I wouldn't see your real smile again.
I wouldn't see your real eyes again.
Wouldn't see your beautiful, bright eyes.
Never again could I see your angelic face without the scars.
Without the blood.
It was branded into my mind and chiseled into my now stone heart.
It had grown cold without your touch.
So I never got to resurrect my heart. It's probably in an autopsy room, hard and cold, with millions of scientists surrounding it thinking impossible thoughts.
Or at least, it will be.
I won't be around for much longer.
You shouldn't watch.
I shouldn't have watched you die.
So please don't watch.
I couldn't bear it if you watched.
Don't watch this.
Please, please, don't.
I don't want you to be that cold inside.
Just look away.
Look away as the blood splatters on your spectral face.
I'll be there to wipe it away soon enough.
And I'll tell you everything's okay.
And I'll hold you close, just as I used to, and tell you that I'm so sorry for abandoning you.
That I'm so sorry for letting you kill yourself.
That I love you.
That I didn't want to live without you.
I hope you can forgive me for that.
I hope you can forgive me for not stopping you in the first place.
Just forgive me for leaving.
It's all my fault.
I'm so sorry.
Just don't blame me.
Please, forgive me.
Don't blame me.
It's all my fault, I know.
Just please don't say it.
Just hold me as you used to, and I'll be okay.
Just kiss my forehead and tell me that it's okay.
Just rest your forehead against my own, rub your nose against mine and smile, whispering,
"I love you too..."
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