I remember the first time I met her. We were in history class, Junior year. I would always catch her glancing at me, and she would quickly look away. One day, the teacher had us work together in a project, and it wasn't hard at all to grow close to her.
I remember our first date. She wore a knee-length floral dress, and her hair was down. We went to the movies, and watched some cartoon that she had wanted to see so bad. After, we were gonna go bowling, but it was closed, so we went to the park out by the lake and just talked. We talked about life, our wants, our dreams. She wanted so badly to be a vet, to help the innocent. You could hear the passion in her voice, you could see the way her eyes lit up at the very thought.
I remember the way she used to greet me. Her lips always curved into the biggest smile, she would run to me and wrap her arms around me, as if I had been gone forever, as if she was going to lose me. I remember the warmth of her white hoodie, I remember how cute it was, the way the sleeves dangled down, too long for her.
I remember our first kiss. The stars were so bright that night. I had her in my arms as we made wishes to the sky, hoping that someday, everything will be perfect, we will be perfect. She wished to be happy, I remember the way she uttered those words. I turned to her and our eyes met and that is when I promised happiness to her. And then, our first kiss.
I remember the first time she told me she loved me. Her parents had a huge fight, and I went to pick her up. We always went to that same park when she was going through something. It was three in the morning, her cheeks and eyes were red from all of the crying. I told her everything will be okay, and that she is my world. She glanced up to me and told me that she loved me, and I swear to God I was never as happy as I was in that moment.
I remember asking her to marry me. The ring was so delicate, so beautiful, just as she was. I got on one knee, I told her about how much I loved that lake, that hoodie, how much I loved her, how I would never hurt her. I told her about that movie we saw, and the history class we took. I told her about that beautiful smile that she has, and how I couldn't ever imagine not getting to see it every day for the rest of my life. She could hardly speak, but she managed to choke out a "yes," and we sat there, in front of a field of hydrangeas, just holding each other, whispering sweet nothings.
I remember the first time she had hurt herself. I was so mad, so lost. She looked so broken, so alone. It killed me, I was right there. I was right there, and she still felt alone, she still felt unhappy. I tried so hard to make things okay. I tried so hard to make us okay. I tried to make her promise me that she would never do it again. She didn't speak to me. She didn't even speak to me for a week after that.
I remember how it felt for her to ignore me. I wanted to help her. I wanted to make her smile as she used to. I wanted to hear that little laugh. I wanted to feel her lips on mine, just one more time. I wanted to know what it was that I did, I wanted to know why it wasn't enough.
I remember getting the phonecall. Her mom, sobbing into the phone that they found Maia on the bathroom floor that morning. She didn't leave a note, she didn't send me a text. All we had left of her was a white hoodie and stained tiles. I remember the feeling that it was all my fault. That I should've tried harder to help her. I should've told somebody, I should've loved her more, I wasn't enough.
I remember the funeral. I sat in the very back row, my face hidden in my hands, trying to keep my sobbing quiet. The man spoke of her life, of her innocence. It made me furious. He had no idea who she was, he didn't know her, he's saying the same words that he gives to every single body that comes in there when she deserved a million times more. I remember walking up to that casket, seeing her face again, seeing her for the last time. You couldn't see the memories in her. The rise and fall of her chest was gone.
I remember her 18th birthday, the birthday she wasn't there to celebrate. I remember going to her grave, and sitting there, talking to her. I felt so pathetic, talking to something that was no longer existent, something that could no longer hear me. I remember the flowers that I set down for that girl. They were her favorite, soft pink hydrangeas. I told her how much I loved her, how much I fucking missed her, how god damn empty I was without her voice.
I remember the dream I had about her. Seeing that beautiful smile again, seeing that white hoodie, without any blood stains on it, her voice spoke happiness and this time, it wasn't a lie. This time, it was her that held me. This time, I was the one that couldn't get it together. This time, I was the one that no longer wanted to breathe.
I remember following her steps. I remember her pain being passed down on me. I remember missing her so fucking bad, and being so god damn miserable that I couldn't find any other escape. I remember her. I wish she remembered me. I wish those tiles were never stained.
