"I'm so sorry sweetie."
"That must be rough."
"Its gonna be hard at first..."
"Its hard losing your best friend-"
But she wasn't just my best friend. I loved her. More than just as a friend or just as a best friend or just as a sister. Love. That kind of love that hits you like a train at full speed. That kind of love that knocks you off your feet and refuses to let you back up without feeling it. A weight that sits on your chest reminding you of your feelings. A weight that you would gladly carry around.
I loved everything about her.
How gorgeous she was first thing in the morning with a bare face and crazy bed hair. The stretches she had to do before she could even think about moving. That when she wore makeup, how it exemplified all of her best features. How soft her skin was, and even softer with lotion. How her eyes glowed like green gems under a light with a touch of some mascara. How her soft, pink lips were colored and fuller and showcased her straight, white teeth from years of braces, I had loved those too. How blush would give her this cute pop of color to her face. How she always did her hair, straightened or curled or out of the way, usually framing her face to showcase her cute round face and full cheeks.
Whether she was a size 6 or a size 14, it didn't matter because she looked great either way, and she knew it. In the large baggy tee shirts that hid her body and running shorts that tried to cover her butt or tight jeans and a shiny tank top that curved out her curves, I loved it all the same.
I loved the small things too. The way the corners of her eyes crinkled when she smiled, the crows feet that were to come from all the smiling she did. The way the she hid her face with her hand or sweater paw when she laughed to much or threw herself into the person next to her when she couldn't breathe anymore. The sound of her laughter like a song that I would want on repeat and never get tried of because it never failed to make me smile. The way her eyebrows moved in frustration or concentration acting as her emotions. The way she would bop her head to song that she enjoyed. Or the way she danced, it wasn't liked nobody was watching kinda but it was care free to where she didn't care as long as she was having fun. The way her hair would sway with her as she moved her hips from side to side. The way she smile like i was the only person in the room. Loved the she looked when she was angry, the small pout she got in her face that made you want to forget everything and give this girl the world.
I loved the things she thought were imperfect. The small marks on her tummy and things, that showed she was a real person. The way she already had smiles, even though it showcased how happy she was. The way her face would break out because it showed that even the most beautiful people were still just regular people, even though she look good no matter what.
I loved the way that she was always there for me. No matter what I need, she was there.
She was the best thing that ever happened to me.
And I loved her so much. I love her.
But she's gone.
—
3 months. It had been 3 months since I had talked to her. It had been 3 months since I had last seen her. It had been 3 months since I had received a phone call from her. It had been three months since I had received a call from a 911 responder. It had been three months since I had gone to the hospital. It had been three months since the funeral. It had been three months since the day I lost my best friend. and not one second hasn't gone by that I dont think about her.
But that's what love does to you. That kind that clutches your heart and tried to ring it out like wet shirt. The kind of love that you just know they are the one. until they aren't.
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YOU ARE READING
heart like yours
Losowelil short stories from my very gay heart each is different and most of the time unedited most likely won't be completed as its whatever comes to my mind, thanks for reading -s