We were only kids when we met. 

Sixteen going on forty-seven or something like that. You were artsy, deep, and brooding. I was artsy, deep, and brooding. 

We were cut from the exact same cloth. First you and then me. 

Right along the edge, where your threads ceased to be, marked the end of you and the beginning of myself. Just two jaggedly cut scraps that no one else seemed to want. 

Yet when our rough, badly fraying edges were brought together, anyone could see that we fit perfectly. Only then were we ever seen as perfect. It was in these still moments that the truth became evident to us: we belonged somewhere, to someone. 

Each other.

Those were such torturous days. Do you remember? I’m still quite convinced that we invented teenage angst, or perfected it at the very least. Like two star-crossed heroes caught in the middle of a Shakespearean tragedy, we bonded over our shared disdain for life’s infuriating inconsistencies and injustices. Nothing was fair. Nobody understood us. Everything was a sham, but no one seemed to care… except us, that is. 

We cared a lot. We cared about everything. Everyone. Dare I say we cared too much? Perhaps that was the beginning of the end.

In a world full of every manner of bigotry, hypocrisy, and prejudice, it’s a wonder that we made it out alive. Our hearts were too large, too soft for a place such as this. We held nightly debates in an effort to determine our reason for being here. The pain of not knowing why we’d entered into such a mess was almost as unbearable as not knowing how to comfortably and permanently get out of it. 

Yes, it’s a miracle that we made it out alive. If not for the solace we managed to find in each other, we might not have. And if I may speak on my own behalf, I can confirm that you saved me more times than I can count. You gave me hope that there was at least one person on this entire floating rock who saw me. 

You saw me… really saw me. Then you chose to still love me… really love me. 

Until this very day, you are the only person who has ever loved me for real. It was an effortless, almost innate ability you had. There was no pomp and circumstance. There was no flamboyant show of theatrics. You understood the very essence of my soul… I loved you so very much for that. I still do. 

Times were rough for us then. Times are rough for me now. 

Lately I have found myself weeping for you and the unadulterated acceptance that we once shared. I cannot find you nor a replica of the home that I once had with you. It’s only me now. I don’t know if there’s anyone left out there who is like us, but I wish I knew. 

Once again, it’s the not knowing that hurts me the most. I didn’t know things back then either, but we had each other. It was so scary and confusing in those days, but we groped in the darkness of that confusion holding each other’s hand. By then we weren’t very popular, and our “wild” philosophies on how life should be —could be— were misfits right along with us. It seemed as though we didn’t belong in this time or place at all, but each other’s presence validated our existence. 

Josh, why did you leave me?

(To Be Continued…)

© C. M. 2018 All Rights Reserved

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Written by nellsinaeternum

Just a girl lost in a daydream who is trying her best to color inside of the lines like everyone else, but is finding the act of smearing watercolor outside of the lines much, much more enjoyable.

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