Have you started to remember

who you were meant to be?

Oh hey there. Didn't think you'd find this page, but it's cool that you did. This is where I talk more about myself and the things I remember that I'm too afraid to talk to other people about. That's cool isn't

it? Maybe, dunno. I was told a long time ago that I should keep a journal of things that I can remember. The person who told me that wasn't the best, but I somehow still find some kind of comfort in the idea of

recounting memories. It feels sort of weird to think that someone might be reading this at some point, but here you are. If you really want to read this stuff then I guess I can't stop you. I promise it's not

that interesting. If you're not into that, though, there's some cool stuff in that sidebar on the left you should check out. Or don't! I'm not in charge of you.

♡ I swear I think about him the most often. You know that feeling, the one where it's like some part of you is missing? I go throughout the motions of life trying to ignore that constant feeling. It never really leaves me no matter how hard I try to ignore it. A part of me feels empty inside without him here. But like, I guess that's probably somewhat normal right? Or at least, it's to be expected. He

like the ocean breeze and his skin was so soft. He was so warm all the time, and when he hugged you he meant it. Like you could tell, you know? It was more like an embrace. And he just gave them away to everyone he met. I don't really understand how someone like that could exist but he did. He does? I like to think he still does. I still feel anger when I think about him sometimes. It's a complex

feeling. But I still don't really know where that anger is directed. I tell myself it isn't directed at him. Maybe it's at myself? It's at the people who made me the way I am? At the people who told me differently? At the people who took away the life that was mine? No, who fabricated it. I don't know. I think that, it's at myself mostly. I'm angry that I can't be him. But not like how I thought I

meant that sentiment before. I'm angry that I can't be like him. Just like him. I want to give off the warmth that he does. I want to embrace others, really embrace others, the way he does. I want to be so unforgivingly kind to everything I see, and I want to leave the impression that he does on everything I touch. I want my skin to be as soft as his, and I want to smell like sea salt. I wish that I

understood how to capture the image of him. I don't know if it's for selfish reasons, though. It might be. Is it that I want to be the way that he is, or is it that I want the love the he gets back in return? His friends, his family, his soulmate. Do I just want them to see me in the same way that they see him? And to love me in the same way? It's these endless layers of confused thoughts and emotions

that stick in my head every single day. The worst part is that I know if he knew about all of that, he'd be so sad. Sad for me, sad in thinking that he's doing something wrong. I don't ever want him to feel sadness. I want to keep him safe and I want to hold him and tell him how endlessly special he is to me and everyone around him. I really don't think he understands that. He doesn't take it for granted

or anything, oh god no. I think he just genuinely doesn't view himself as something so incredible. He thinks he's just average, and that the things he does and says and thinks are the same as any decent person. He's an idiot for that. And I don't want him to be sad. But he isn't here, and he won't read this, so I can talk about it here all I want. It scares me so much to think about where he is now. Is he

somewhere safe? Is he just as happy and free? He's been though so much. I know that, deep down, though he doesn't show it, he carries so much pain. Pain and sadness and fear and anger. I know because I've seen his thoughts, I've seen his memories, I've heard his voice. But he carries on like they don't bother him. Those terrifying thoughts that cloud his mind. The fear - it's almost childish in the way that

he interprets it. It's like when a little kid is afraid of the monster in their closet. The threat is real. The fear is real, crippling even. But the emotion is..it isn't surface level. It's like, simplistic. He doesn't spiral into endless layers of fear around a certain threat. And it's not like he's stupid or anything, that's just the way he is. I know, though, that even further down, he has those same

complex thoughts that everyone does, just about different things than most people. Instead of imagining all of the terrible things the monster could do to him, he's afraid of all the terrible things it could do to the people he loves, and even more about the fear of being unable to protect them. I know these things, but I don't understand them. I want to understand. Is any of this even making sense anymore?

There are so many things I want to tell him. I want him to know how much I love him. I was never man enough to tell him in the way I really wanted to. How could I? I was never good at that sort of thing. Fuck, I didn't even think I could feel love for a long time. In the time we did have together, he'd always tell me the kindest things. Nobody I'd ever met spoke like he did. Everyone always made things too

complicated. He would tell you exactly what you needed to hear without any random bullshit to weigh down the words. I miss him every single day. He moved like he was walking on air, and his words carried like a soft breeze. His eyes were the color of the sky. I guess his name is fitting, huh? I would do anything to just talk to him once. He told me one time, that if you feel like you're alone, you never

are, because the people who love you and who remember you live in your heart forever. Tell me then why my heart feels incomplete? Has he forgotten about me? It scares me every day to think about it. But I know he never really would. I want to believe that he thinks about me as often as I think about him. And I want him to know that I still remember him. And if he ever comes home, always I'll be waiting here.



♡ It's hard to even talk about him. It's hard to even think about him. I start crying if I do for too long, so this will be added on to over time. Although, I'm sure that all of this will be. I hate the fact that I know he's out there. It would've been less complicated if I didn't. Knowing that I had him, I really had him back, and that he's gone again. It messes with you. I'm so, so afraid that something

terrible has happened to him. It's a deep seated fear that I can't even put into words. I know that he has before, been in trouble I mean. In situations where his life was at stake. Now that I can't find him anymore, it's terrifying to think that something bad could have happened. I want him back so badly. We were just starting to bloom when we stopped talking. He was so deserving of so much love that he

hadn't been shown. He was so, so beautiful. Just like he used to be. Three times now I've lost him to powers that were out of my control. You know what that kind of thing does to a person? I want to know more about him. There's still so much that I don't know. There's so many things I want to tell him. So many things I want to show him and teach him. I know that, now, especially, I could teach him. I could

properly give back to him the kindness he gave to me, fleeting as it was. I think of those words all the time: "Let's rest now, both of us." He saved everything. He doesn't even know that. He has no idea how much he helped. It tears me apart every fucking day. I want to scream and break things and ask why why why why. I want someone to listen to me and take this seriously. They did, for a while. At least, I

think they did. Or they were really good at pretending. Nobody ever really seemed as whole heartedly interested as me, so who knows. How upsetting is that? Does nobody else think what I do? Does nobody else understand what a beautiful person he was? What a beautiful person he is? I can't take it. I want someone to fucking help me find him. It feels like there are things people know about this situation that

I don't that have been purposefully kept a secret from me. And for who's sake? For mine? For his? Or for someone else? It's pretty fucking selfish if you ask me. How would they know? What if it hurt me more? That's my business. I could be entirely wrong about that, of course, but I can't ever shake the feeling. Every single part of this entire situation has felt wrong from the start. Is it some kind of sick

joke? An elaborate act? A script that someone has put together to make me believe something that was never real in the first place? For what fucking purpose. What is to be gained. It's been years, nearly six years, and I still have so many questions that are unanswered, some of which, I feel, certain individuals refuse to answer for me. I just miss him. I can't stand it. I miss him always. It's gotten better;

I've better mastered the art of escaping these thoughts. Distracting myself, rationalizing, trying to forget. But I can't forget. If not for my own sake, than for his. I need to remember him so that I remain in his heart. As long as some part of me does, as long as I stop every now and then to think about him and the conversations we had and the warmth that he showed me in the short time we were able to spend

with one another, then I'll definitely always be with him. Even if he's far away, I'll be with him. I can only hope he thinks about me, remembers me, as fondly as I do him. And that that brings him some semblance of the comfort he is so deserving of.