I drove by the place where you first met my parents.
When everything had just started off between us.
I looked and it was no longer there.
I sat in the parking lot for a few minutes,
and stared at the empty building.
It had become much like out love had.
Broken down and deserted.

I sat there, on my bed, softly sobbing into my pillow. It was one of those days where I seemed to be doing everything wrong. I was having a lot of those lately. The doctor said I was depressed. I believed him, but I didn’t want to.
I was getting up to take the pills he told me to take. God, I hated those pills. They’re not going to fix me. Nothing can fix me. I’m a waste of a person. Why am I even-knock! I looked in the mirror and put on the most believable smile, then walked to my front door.
You were standing in the rain without a jacket so I invited you in. I wish someone would invite me in from my thunderstorm. You saw past my “smile” and asked me what was wrong. I just looked down and shook my head, tears dripping down my cheeks, hitting the hardwood floor.
You asked if I had any paint. Too tired to ask why I pointed to my backyard. Black and white were the colors you came back with. You told me to sit down, so I did. You started painting something in black.
When you were finished you asked me what I thought it was. It looked like a person, so that’s what I guessed. You told me it was a painting of me. I told you I didn’t understand.
“The black destroyed the white wall,” you said. “You’re both the black and the white. You feel black, like space. Like there is nothing inside you. You look like the white. You’re pure and innocent. Now, when I cover this black paint with the white, it’ll appear the same as the rest of the wall until something messes it up.” You looked at me and I at you. “You’re much greater than your mistakes. Then that black inside of you. You just have to believe it yourself.”

I sat there looking at him. I don’t think he noticed. We were sitting outside watching a movie. We weren’t alone, but it felt like we were. I remember how his eyes light up so bright. Brighter than any of those stars. I tried to make jokes because the night before he told me he enjoyed watching movies with me. I made him laugh and he put his head on my arm. His hair smelled like rain. And, oh, the ache to hold his hand hurt. Maybe he wanted to hold mine, too. All I know is that was a moment I’ll not forget. When I was there and he was there and everything was alright.

Depression. Unhappiness. Hurt. Sad.
It goes by many name. That feeling of emptiness. Like you’re being pushed under water without a chance of hope. It creeps upon the nicest of people. For me, that’s what’s unfair. You always have that bit of pessimism in your thoughts. You can’t focus. You don’t know the meaning of happy anymore. Even the little rocks feel like giant boulders on your shoulders. You feel like if you talk to anyone, they’ll call you names. You keep holding it in until one day it pops like a balloon. Then you grab a new one and fill it until it pops. It’s a never ending cycle. It’s something you can’t do alone. It’s hard to ask for help. But it’s up to you. Would you rather take the easy route and be sad or take the hard route and be happy?

I watched my favorite movie today. As I watched it, I began to remember how I told you the main character reminded me of you. As the movie played, I wasn’t watching the person. I was watching you. Maybe that’s why I cried during the happy parts. Because I saw the boy smile and it reminded me of yours.

I picked up that poetry book you gave me for our two-month anniversary in October. We used to talk about poetry like we breathe air. It was natural. Ironically, it’s titled “Gasoline.” You were the gasoline that lit my heart.

I listen to the playlist I made as a surprise for you. It had all of the songs we listened to together and fell asleep to. I still remember that moments we had listening to them and how you smiled when I have that CD to you.

I looked at that yearbook photo of you that I keep in my wallet. I remember how you hated it because of your braces. You were so glad to have them off. I thought you still looked cute with them. You told me to shut up and kissed me

I remember the first time you told me you loved me. We weren’t dating. You were telling me how you’d felt about me for a year. I told you I couldn’t imagine having feelings for someone for that long. It’s funny because it’s been six months since I’ve talked to you and you don’t know I still love you.

We are the monsters from the fairy tales; we’re supposed to be the bad guys. The ones that hide in your closet and sneak under your bed. We were the monsters you imagined when you were six. Ten years later and you got smarter. You figured out there were no such thing as monsters. And in a physical sense, you’re right. We just took a different shape. One you can’t conjure. We are just voices without bodies. We are the monsters that tell you that you’re worthless or ugly. We’re the reason you never go out. We’re in your head. Some of us are louder than others. But I’ll let you in on a little secret. We’re only as loud as you allow us to be.

The world and my mind
Are like a dark forest.
You were the one
Who would shine a light
And light my path.
But since you left,
The light has gone out
And I’m quickly becoming
Afraid of the dark.