Sunday, December 12, 2010


I have two hands. They're discolored and awkward, but they used to fit perfectly in yours.

It's been 83 days since I have spoken to you. The last thing you said was, "I'll talk to you tomorrow." I walked away from you car, clueless to the pain I would be feeling throughout the next three months. If I knew that was going to be the last time I would ever speak to you, I would have told you so much more. I would have told you everything. My fears, my dreams, the reason that I asked you so many questions, all the letters I wrote to you, every dream, every last thing. Everybody told me that every broken heart mends itself eventually, and that has been happening lately. It doesn't hurt as much as it used to. I only think about you at night. Part of me really misses you. Part of me knows that everything happened for a reason.


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  2. so this is the muse of all your writings....I did kinda notice that like half of your posts were about this one person. the process of a healing heart is probably one of the worst medical feats you can go through, and there is no known anesthesia for it, other than a heart donation. luckily I found a donor right in time. its tough looking for a donor because they usually dont come until you stop looking.

    just know that you will always have me and ariel, because we love you like.....zombie hunters like Twinkies. ;)