Dear Myles,
It's finally sunny and warm here! I'm loving this good weather. I'm a lot happier and my anxiety and stress levels have stayed pretty low, which is great for me. While the weather is great, I wish you were here. I think you would love the beauty and life that is thriving. Some days, I can hardly breathe and others, I can get through the day with a smile on my face. Sure do miss you. I miss you everyday.
It's been a little over two years, but the pain and weight of missing you hasn't gone away. It doesn't hurt so much, and the weight pressing on my heart and chest has lifted significantly.
I've accepted that you're gone and that you're not coming back. I'm working on moving on with my life. I don't see you so much in everywhere I go, and our conversations don't happen very often, and I'm learning to be okay with that.
I replaced the flowers on your grave with some pretty stones that I found on the beach. Flowers are temporary whilst stones are eternal. Besides, I think you'll like them much more.
Also, I totally kicked *** with Kai last night on our solo for the choir concert last night.

All my love,
Sammy

Clench and unclench my hands.

Breath in and out. In and out.

Loosen the tension in my shoulders.

Push back against the raw emotions threatening to burst from my chest.

Wipe the tears from my eyes and slowly exhale.

Not today. Not today. Not today.

Repeat over and over again.

Years spent trying to convince myself that I've turned over a new leaf.
Hours used to make my head believe that nothing is wrong.
Days wasted in the mirror, covering up the pain.

I was dumb. I was naive.

I carved every heartbreak, every ounce of pain and fear on my wrists.
Put a mask on and pushed the insecurity behind bars.

let me tell you the story
of the girl who laced cigarettes
with the taste of coffee
the girl who stained tissue napkins with sappy phonetics
and the guy who knew nothing of the sort

she carved heartbreak on the surface of her wrists
and broke silence with unessential questions
she wore her wounds in a tight braid
and carried her worries on the pages of a paper-back book
she described her mind as retired
from all the wars she has won and lost
she exclaims sighs of relief
and stands by the neutrality of her hopeless idealism

on the other side of the universe, however

there exists
the personification of oblivion
he betrays his race with an unrecognized voice
and words misunderstood by his own kind
he returns to his world for temporary release
of what
he is still unsure of
and yet
he is certain of the presence of sadness
he masks his isolation with a facade of self-accompaniment
and satisfies his inner desires with empty seats
he covers up his chapters with bottles of prohibition
and mystifies the tables with ashes of past regret
he sings about tomorrow as if it holds a promise
a promise of better days to come
he has gone from mountain to mountain
in hopes of a brighter view of the sun
but amidst all his travels,
he is yet to be blinded by the brightest of flames

and so,
he appears to be void
of reason
of worth
of a sense of purpose
of plans of the future

and maybe this is where the story ends.

with both their hands shaking from an overdose
with momentary glances of unread excerpts of themselves
with the unspoken truths
and with held-back melodies of lyrics still unknown
with curses of similarities
and vows of their difference
with her,
believing she already knows too much
and with him,
thinking she is yet to know more

or maybe I was wrong.

because maybe,
just maybe,

this is where the story begins.

i
lay awake at night with your words in my head.
And wait. for the pounding silence to slip away.

it's not as if this happens every day.
but sometimes it's as if i can't help myself.

i swear on my heart that I'm happier than I've ever been.
smiling comes easy as breathing these days.

and a faint yet genuine smile curves my mouth every time.
every time my eyes slip over those words written on paper.

i will not let myself slip and fall because of those words.

i will not take one step backwards.

Counting down the minutes. But the minutes turn into hours. Time's spinning backwards. What have I done? I didn't mean to push that button, it was so inviting though. I look at my hands and they're covered with multiple equations; various numbers and variables that I can't understand. They told me I'd understand when it was time. Time. Time is something I do not have. Time. Minutes and seconds and hours. Numbers. But these numbers work against me. I push and push to no avail. I'm stuck in a clock, watch everyone I love die in front of me.
Looking down on the chaos, I realize something.
I had the answer all along.
That button. That button I pushed. I should've pushed it twice.
Time. Something that once again thwarted me.
Time. Something I'm going to work for the rest of my life to get back.

I'm sad.
Sad that all that will be left is a title on a slab of gray rock in a fenced meadow.
Sad that you won't be here to see me walk across that stage in June.
Sad that I'll talk about you in past tense, not present tense.
Sad that my tears won't be wiped away by your gentle aging hands.
Sad that I couldn't take away your pain and make it better.

I'm grateful.
Grateful for your love and support.
Grateful for the wise words and no nonsense attitude.
Grateful for every word, laugh, smile, and letter.
Grateful for the memories, hugs, and homemade meal.
Grateful for the card games played in that awful hospital room.
Grateful for the time we've had together.