Tu Me Manques

come home soon

"Dear Doctor,
In my life i can count on my hands the amount of people who i have met who i felt like i've known for years, that you connect so quickly with them. but you are so different. the day i met you it didn't feel like this connections that i knew instantly, that feel so comfortable but rather i felt like i wanted to know every single thing about you. i was/am so drawn to you and you keep me on my toes. i'm always learning so much and that's the thing. while you were different, you're the first person this happens to me. while i can't feel like i've known you for so long that you are like the back of my hand. every wrong turn, every wrong person led to you.

I realize now how little we know of each other. Here I am shattered beyond further repair because of someone who I don't know that well and yet I wholly trust you with my life in your hands. I wish we got to know each other more. God I hate this, the whole past/present tense, there's no grey area for someone who completely disappeared without a trace. You wouldn't do that to me...or Graham or Ryan. I don't- can't- think of the other possibility nagging at the bottom of my brain. I can't fathom a world, a whole universe without you. what would the universe do without you? what would I do without you? I like to think that I would feel if you were to, you know, be gone gone. As if I had some sort of sixth sense, that must be a funny joke to you. An ordinary human, unlike extraordinary you. God the things I would give up just to hear your laughter right now. How could I have the ability to know whether or not a time lord has passed on? Do you even pass on?

It's been a month by the way. A month without you and yet I can't live the life I lived so easily before. Now I keep coming to the thought that we don't know much about each other. Well I supposed that's a given because more than half the time we spend running. Running away from others and running away from ourselves. I'd like to tell you a story though, if you'd like to hear. Of course, it's not like you can agree or disagree... but when I was a kid I was quiet. Don't confuse that with shyness, because I was a stubborn little girl you can argue even more than I am now. I would bite my tongue in, mouth full of things I wanted to say but couldn't because I was afraid of how much of the dam would let out of the things i bottled up so I used to sit in our garage on top of the washer machine and write all the things I wish I could've said, and I used to fill notebook after notebook. So here I am 13 years later sitting on the washer machine on to drown out my cries, writing the things I didn't get to say to you. I want to release these trapped words, I don't hope it's not too late to say these things. That's why I'm doing this. At first when the idea came to me to write to you. I laughed bitterly, what did you care about me and how I was doing right now coping with the loss of my best friend? If you were to come back what would you want these letters? What good does it do? To guilt you? But I think I finally came to the conclusion that i'm writing these things for myself. sometimes I stop in my track thinking I hear the whooshing but instead it's wind. Sometimes I see you in my dreams and I swear I can feel your warmth. You're so close yet so far and intangible. . As I'm writing I feel you near me and sometimes *sometimes* it's enough to get me through the day.

Sometimes the words get so heavy in my mind, it builds such a pressure that it drags me down as they swim in my head bobbing up and down out of my consciousness begging for my attention. I have to write them down or I'll forget. I just have to. writing has always been a way I cope, it's the way that I could express the things that I'm too much of a coward to express. Sometimes I wish I kept these words between me and my consciousness rather than them being real on this paper. I hope that by writing "you're okay, you're well", magically it'll come true. I can't really doubt that because you have shown me how magic exists everywhere. I plan on writing and writing to never forget you, to will some magic over to you. Wherever you are, I hope you can feel me thinking of you. I hope wherever you are, the thought of me brings you strength to continue to fight on because right now it pains me I'm not there with you at your side, protecting you and you protecting me.

And knowing your infinite knowledge in anything and everything, this phrase from my old grade 11 french class is the phrase tu me manques means you are missing from me, and it translates to you are missing from me. and doctor, tu me manques.

When I met you, I had a hole in my heart, in my being. it's funny how you were the exact same size as the hole just a little jagged around the edges. I feel whole around you and yet it feels wrong to have you away. But life goes on right? I miss you so much, come home soon. don't worry about me though, I'll write soon.
Love Always,
Your friend Yaz."

Yaz jumps off the washer machine and walks over to her room. she lifts her mattress and shoves the letter under. Her stomach growls and she frowns- the last few weeks she hasn't been able to stomach proper food. She's even began to lose weight. she gets up and goes into her bathroom to brush her teeth but she stands there studying the strange person in the reflection- blank swollen eyes staring back. she nearly jumps out of fright. she begins to brushes her teeth, knuckles white as they clench the bathroom sink in an attempt to distract herself from the violent swarming in her stomach. This has been the new routine, one that makes her feel like she's in a first person perspective in a video game- unable to feel sensation or will her arms and legs to do what she wants. Robotically, she returns to her room and lays down. Her brain begins to work double time blaring the darkest of thoughts that send her to a blinding panic. in a way it's a sickening comfort feeling because this is all she's known the past month. the constant thought that the doctor is dead and she can't remember the last thing she said to her. in a desperate frenzy, shaky hands fumble for the medicine her doctor recently prescribed for the panic. It takes a few minutes for it to do its job. yaz gets dragged into a dream of a bubbling blonde woman with a blue box outstretching her through doors beckoning Yaz to come through the doors to discover all of time and space. Yaz almost thought it was real until the blaring of her alarm interrupted what once was.