Day 2:
I woke up hungover this morning, all events of yesterday forgotten. I went to the cafe to see you, Enjolras. But you weren't there. And it hit me. You have passed. You have passed and I have not.
You should know that losing you is harder than I thought. I meant to only drink a few, but then I drank another, and another, and another. And then I was drunk. I was more hungover than ever this morning. But you are worth it. You are worth every time I get sick, every time I drink, every time I cry. Because you are the love of my life. Yes, Enjolras, the love of my life.
Would things have happened differently if I had told you? Did you feel the same? I feel terrible thinking that I will never know now. Instead of simply loving you without you knowing, I get to love you while you are dead.
You know, it's funny. It's funny that you died instead of me. I sat and drank myself into an early grave. But I'm still here and you aren't. And you know what? It isn't fucking FAIR. You would've been fine, had it been me gone. I'm just silly, drunkie R. But you, Enjolras, you were important. You were the leader, the smart man, the one who could simply change the world by speaking a few words. I want to be dead. But I don't want to either.
For now, I'm going to attempt to last it out. Until tomorrow.
