To My First Love

~Missing Half~

Missing you has been a struggle every day. For all the exciting and happy things I do, I'm reminded I don't have the luxury to tell you anymore. Add on top is a reminder that I won't get to experience them with you. When loneliness and sadness creeps, I can no longer rely on you. Day by day, I find small things to do. How badly I want to tell you or just talk to you... It's driving me mental. I'm relearning how to be alone again.

I do a lot of reminiscing these days... You're a big part of my life that's made me change widely. You've introduced so many things to me, shared your likes that eventually grew to become mine as well and you've given me a forward attitude I keep tucked safely upon my breast. It's quite incredible how I can pick apart my daily life and find all these points I want express to you. I think about what I could've done better or did to keep you still. I do know well that butterflies were never meant to be kept in the conservatory. Fleeting creatures deserve their flight. Memories just seem to be what haunt me more now. Dreams are rare as my mind seems to not dare to attempt. Dreams are for the imaginative, light-hearted and hopeful people. I'm finding that light seems to be dimmer than I imagined. The same night-light that protects me from the dark flickers like flames. They wave its arms crying for help as the chilling wind gushes from a compass of directions.

Music is what I listen to a lot these days. It seems I'm trying to find relatability behind others' words— Not quite right, just comfort. I used to hear Debussy but now it's like I hear Schubert's "Ave Maria". Praying to find my soul once more. Believing in a thread of faith for love. My heart doesn't want to love anymore. It shakes and begs to forsake the feeling. The smog clouds over weighing heavy and hard; covering over my heart so well. It's tearing the very fibers, muscles and tendons my heart has... Telling me to forget kindness, patience and understanding. Gifted traits seen like diamonds in the sky upon your eyes feel now like crushed leaves in autumn; disintegrated. I'm fighting with everything I have not to let those go. They are a beautiful side in me that I adored like chocolate bonbons behind a glass case.

We shared many views and judgement upon the book was never given. I know more than ever now that I felt at ease to hold my pledging hand in front of my chest knowing you were behind me, hand on shoulder as always. You were cold and distant where I liked. You were warm and calm in ways that I'm reminded back to my adolescence where I hid in my own room and skin. You never comforted me in the way I liked but in what I needed. Time made me realize that along with understanding. You're the Kirito to Asuna. Peanut butter to jelly. The truth while I was ideals. You were logic and reason as I was asinine and emotion. The balance of astronomy, we were held up of fantastical gravity and I thought we were the world. You are the Sun above the sky and a more physical form takes you upon Sunflowers. While I thought I could be a Peach blossom tree basking warmly under your soft light, I return to my position as the Moon. I see that shriveled lilies are what decorate my hair, it's petals never to be plucked. Right person, wrong time... I suppose that couldn't be any more of a clichéd truth.

Letting go is hard and isn't easy. Moving on is a treadmill I can't refute to walk. Someone asked me "what is happiness to me" a while ago. I knew happiness within you and always spoke of you as the depiction. I'm wondering will my smile beam as bright as before? Unmasked and raw? It's too much to think so soon but happiness will have to wait. I had forgotten that I was two years happy and for my unfortunate life, that's far too long. A taste made me hungry and craving to touch but I'd have to refer back to my struggling bear. A bear that has retreated to hibernation yet winter food supplies have spoiled fast. Fast is what we felt and the rush of realness was always present. I can't deny you were good to me. However, what sounds in my being is that you weren't good. You were perfect for me.