I wish I could forget what you looked like, how genuine your smiles were, but that would be impossible.
The photo we took together on the beach is still my home screen, and no matter how much it hurts to see it, I can’t bring myself to remove this piece of you from my life.
I walked down the street, and the moon looked bigger than usual, staring down at my huddled form, sunk into my sweatshirt. It felt concerned. But to be fair, everyone was at that point.
It’d been a year, but I still couldn’t walk down the road in front of the library without feeling sick or crying. It doesn’t stop me from going there, though.
It didn’t take long to reach the library. I kept my head tucked close to my chest, staying on the edges of the lights the street lamps emitted.
I looked up at the stars, trying to remember all the constellations you taught me, but I couldn't find any.
I’ve never been very good at remembering them, even though I can’t stop reading your astronomy book.
I remember the first time you took me out to look at the stars with you. It was summer, and I couldn’t stop complaining about how I was going to have a million mosquito bites the next day.
But you just laughed and laid down on the blanket you brought outside. I reluctantly joined you, finally going quiet after you turned off the flashlight.
I stared up into the abyss above, feeling dazed.
"Do you know any constellations up there?" "No, I'm only here because you made me"
You pointed up at Libra, trying to describe what it's supposed to look like. It didn’t look like scales at all, but I stayed quiet.
We got lost in the moment, moving from constellation to constellation, trying to find new ones.
I still remember how you sounded, your voice excited but hushed, as if you didn’t want the bugs in the grass around us to hear you speak about what you loved.
I want to live in that moment forever. But will can't move me from where I am in time.
Instead, pulled back from the memory, I sat down on the grass beside the bench with your name on it. My face was wet with tears.
A year is so long to go without you, and even though it hurt so much, I had to go there on the anniversary.
They said it was painless, and I like to imagine it was. Hopefully, it was just you, riding your bike, feeling the wind on your face, and then...
Nothing No pain Just peace
I hope, but I can never really know for sure.
The man who hit you with his car is in jail. I heard your parents got a letter of apology from him, but I didn’t. The best friend never gets a letter, but that’s okay.
I don’t know what I wouldn’t done with it if I had got one.
I miss you. I miss you so much that it hurts to breathe sometimes, but I need to remember because even if it hurts, it helps.
So I sit there, near your memorial bench and the place you died, and I cry. A year has passed by, and I’ve made it without you. I’ll keep living for you.
I miss you, best friend.