This is not my life story. It will never be my life story because it isn't even really about me...At least not in my perspective. This is what happened to me. What happened to what was going to be perfect. My beautiful girlfriend Monica. Her name as sweet as her french perfume. Her words as soft as the click clack of her heels when we walked into out house from a night out. Her voice strong yet smooth like her favorite red dress. My sweet Monica. The way she would scream at me when I burnt breakfast. How she would put her hands on mine and sing soft and low about the waves of the faraway oceans washing over the sand whenever she was sad. I especially miss when I told her I loved her. She'd blush, look around a bit then lean in really close and whisper in my ear: "I love you too, you fool. I'm not sure why, but I do. And I don't regret it one tiny bit." I miss her long soft wavy red hair. The way is swung when she walked. How it always managed to find a way onto me when we were going to sleep. How she would hum the song about the ocean when she sat down and brushed it. How soft it was in the summer when she always let it down so it could flow behind her with every bubbly happy cheery movement she ever made. I miss the way she would put on old rock and dance around our little house in my socks and one of my tee shirts and pretend to be playing air guitar when I was busy and when she wanted to go out. It was cute, cause she made her own dance floor, danced to her own music, had her own party and had a blast alone. That's the difference between my sweet sweet Monica and I. I can't be alone. I can't dance without pants. I can't sing a song to make it better. I can't make breakfast for one. I can't live without her. When she died, she took herself with her. When she died, she left me. I know she didn't mean to die, but she did. And in her dying, I'm not the same. I'm alone. I don't have her. I have her things, but those aren't her. The closest thing I have to her is her cat, Frost, whom I hate. Monica thought it would be funny to name him Frost after me because sometimes I was a bit cold and grumpy so she went right ahead and named him Frost. "Jack and Frost and Monica forever!", she would say. Guess forever doesn't exist like she thought it did, because now it's just Jack and Frost.
