I knew love once, but he left, some 7 years ago. His name was Cecil but we called him CJ.
Facebook deactivated his account, when, I don't know but I just found out an hour ago. He's now just "Facebook User" in my inbox and I can't even send him messages anymore. I haven't thought of contacting him in a long time but now that I can't, I want to, even knowing there will never be a response. I was browsing through my Facebook memories when I noticed that his responses to a status were deleted. I rushed to my inbox to look for his messages but they weren't there. I thought I was done mourning him, didn't think I had anything else to loose, boy was I wrong.
I loved him but I didn't realise how much until after he was gone. The thing about him was that he was nothing like what I wanted, so it was easy to bury my head in the sand and repress my feelings. Plus, he was an alcoholic, I've lived that disaster growing up, I wasn't going to marry one. He had no such qualms, he was the carpe diem, seize the moment sort of guy, so he told me he loved me, whenever he wanted to, which was a lot. He knew I loved him, I told him as much, not just in-love. I told him I was in love with someone else, some douche of a guy.
That did not stop him from asking for my hand. He proposed several times, once, word for word using lines from my favourite movie at the time. I didn't even realise what he did until after his death. I saw it again earlier this year, took me two weeks to knit myself back together.
I didn't realise a lot until after his death, like how much I was actually in love with my best friend. Or how I rejected him out of fear, even though I rationalised it as common sense. I was so hurt and rejected, I couldn't fathom someone loving me. Ironically, upon analysis, after his death, I was never more sure I was loved. I felt his love from beyond the grave. It cocooned and enveloped me in so much warmth that it tore me to shreds. I cried for two years straight. On the fourth anniversary of his death I was so broken down, I began crying at work and was sent home. He's the reason I can't handle Valentine's, we were finally going on a date. He and I, we were finally calling it a date, even if I was bringing my friend and he, a girlfriend.
You lose a lot when your best fried dies, you lose yourself.
He promised me I'd never be in his past, he promised me forever. Forever is not over yet, at least not for me, but he's not here anymore.
Facebook deactivated his account, when, I don't know but I just found out an hour ago. He's now just "Facebook User" in my inbox and I can't even send him messages anymore. I haven't thought of contacting him in a long time but now that I can't, I want to, even knowing there will never be a response. I was browsing through my Facebook memories when I noticed that his responses to a status were deleted. I rushed to my inbox to look for his messages but they weren't there. I thought I was done mourning him, didn't think I had anything else to loose, boy was I wrong.
I loved him but I didn't realise how much until after he was gone. The thing about him was that he was nothing like what I wanted, so it was easy to bury my head in the sand and repress my feelings. Plus, he was an alcoholic, I've lived that disaster growing up, I wasn't going to marry one. He had no such qualms, he was the carpe diem, seize the moment sort of guy, so he told me he loved me, whenever he wanted to, which was a lot. He knew I loved him, I told him as much, not just in-love. I told him I was in love with someone else, some douche of a guy.
That did not stop him from asking for my hand. He proposed several times, once, word for word using lines from my favourite movie at the time. I didn't even realise what he did until after his death. I saw it again earlier this year, took me two weeks to knit myself back together.
I didn't realise a lot until after his death, like how much I was actually in love with my best friend. Or how I rejected him out of fear, even though I rationalised it as common sense. I was so hurt and rejected, I couldn't fathom someone loving me. Ironically, upon analysis, after his death, I was never more sure I was loved. I felt his love from beyond the grave. It cocooned and enveloped me in so much warmth that it tore me to shreds. I cried for two years straight. On the fourth anniversary of his death I was so broken down, I began crying at work and was sent home. He's the reason I can't handle Valentine's, we were finally going on a date. He and I, we were finally calling it a date, even if I was bringing my friend and he, a girlfriend.
You lose a lot when your best fried dies, you lose yourself.
He promised me I'd never be in his past, he promised me forever. Forever is not over yet, at least not for me, but he's not here anymore.
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