Dear Diary

diary entry #2

Monday, March 13 . Dear Diary,

I still remember how it felt; when I got home from afternoon college classes and saw the smoke arising from my backyard. I wasn't exactly sure what I'd expected, you know, when I ran inside. But it surely wasn't what I witnessed.

It was Xxxx, my boyfriend of 3 years, lying about 3 meters from the fire pit with his skin burnt. It's cliche, but I really was frozen in place. When you're put into this sort of situation, you don't really know what to do. Sometimes I think if I didn't stand there for so long watching, he'd still be here with my today.

I did start moving somehow, although it didn't really feel like I was moving. I don't quite know how to explain it other than I was completely and unequivocally senseless. I grabbed the phone and called the cops, who swiftly arrived and took Xxxx to a hospital immediately.

I visited him everyday, even though he was always unconscious. I'd hoped that he was able to feel I was with him, and maybe it would make him wake up faster.

But days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into a month; and it was going nowhere. Xxxx was all I'd known for so long and I wasn't sure how to function without his, "Good morning," when we woke up together. Or him counting the freckles on my face, then giving up when he concludes that there's too many to even bother. I used to swat his hand from my face and call him an idiot.

But now I wish he would count them again. I never contemplated how much I relied on his shitty jokes and homemade dinners to get me through the week. But, I suppose you don't consider these things until they're gone.

In reality, it was only two months that passed while Xxxx was in the hospital; although they felt like the longest two months of my life. I tried to stay optimistic, but it was hard when each passing day he never showed any signs up waking up. As each morning came and went, living became duller and duller. It's disheartening how much I had been relying on Xxxx for my happiness in life.

By the two month mark the hospital told his parents they can either keep him on life support or pull the plug. To this day, I regret that I was never able to say goodbye. I would give absolutely anything, if I could just go back to the hospital and tell him I loved him and I would never forget all the amazing memories he gave me. I just had so many things to say, so many things I wish he could have known.

I miss him so much. It's been eight years and I can't stop wondering what could have been with him. Would we have lived a long happy life together, I wonder? Would we have gone to amusement parks and ate overpriced shitty pizza? Would we have gone shopping together and him complain about how many stores I go to?

I ask all these questions that I'll never know the answer to, and that's what sucks. I'll never know.

Most of my memory from those two months is hazy, but I remember laying in our cold bed one night; curled up into a ball screaming to myself that he was going to die. Somehow I just knew. I've never told anyone about that night.

Yours truly,
xxxxxxx.