July 8th, 2010

Dear Diary,

Today is another beautiful, sunny, summer day. Not too hot, not too cold. It seems as though everyone and their mothers, fathers, aunts, uncles, cousins, sisters, brothers and grandparents are out for a stroll through town. The streets are flooded with crying kids, dropping ice cream cones, or whining about leaving the park. There are mothers pushing baby carriages through shaded pathways lined with trees, in between bright green grass. Couples are scattered across the park, walking hand in hand, sitting under trees with picnic baskets. All of these people look so happy. I guess I'm the party pooper.

As I write this, I'm staring out, into the immense, dark-blue water, fading into a blurry horizon of colors that can't be deciphered. I usually think way too much about things that happen in my life, but I figured maybe writing them might help somehow. I guess I kind of look at writing as some form of therapy. I never seem to write about what I really feel, so that's why I am going to start writing here, in a diary. This is most likely going to be the only entry, or at least the longest one. There is just something so exciting about executing a new idea, and writing on the first blank page of a notebook. Hopefully this is one thing I will be able to stick with, and not give up, like I do with most things.

The thing I have given up on the most, is love. It has come to knock on my door once, and left a hole. There will always be an invisible scar on the door that was slammed back into my face after my first failed relationship. Not to mention, a hole in my heart as well. His name was Alex, and he broke up with me 10 months ago today. It wasn't just a normal breakup though. We had a huge fight about how we never see each other and nothing is the same.

As much as I begged him not to walk out the front door, he was gone for good. Leaving behind an invisible hole, shaped like the outline of his body in my front door. Now every time I look at that door, that's what I see. It's now a red door. Before Alex left, it was just a normal brown door, on a normal suburban house. But now it's painted blood red. Not because I was mad at him, but because when he walked out that door, a drunk driver came barreling down the street in a bright red mustang, and hit Alex as he was crossing the street.

I will never forget the awful sound. It was so loud, that I swear I felt the vibration of the impact go through me. It kind of felt like I was hit. I guess it isn't something that can be explained. I remember it like it was yesterday. The blood, his bright eyes full of anger and tears as he looked me in the eyes for the last time. If only I had grabbed him, and told him how much I love him, how I didn't want him to go, even though I said it so many times during that last conversation. A few more seconds, and Alex would still be here with me. Even if he wasn't with me, at least he would be here, still alive.

In the memory I have, the moment I looked into his eyes for the last time I would be able to, seemed to last an eternity. It was as if the world was suddenly in slow motion, and then sped up as I saw the car hitting him. He left through the front door, slamming it in my face. I stood there for a split second, whispering "I love you" to the back of the door, when I should have swung it open and jumped on Alex, tackling him to the ground, kissing him rolling around in the grass, telling him how I'm supposed to be with him forever. Then we probably would have looked up into the stars, just like we did on our first date. That almost feels as if it were another lifetime ago.

Unfortunately, I swung the door open just in time to see the zooming red car, smashing right into Alex, then speeding away, before I could see the license plates, not that I was even thinking about that. Of course my first instinct was to run to Alex's' lifeless body, laying in the middle of the street, and the second was to scream, as soon as I found my voice. All the neighbors came rushing outside, running out into the street. One of the neighbors pulled his car into the street and put his hazard lights on, thankfully for me, because I could have ended up dead too, since I couldn't bring myself to stand up and leave Alex's side.

He never gained consciousness since the accident. He was in a coma for two weeks, possibly the longest two weeks of my life. Then I went to visit him, only to see a nurse stripping the bed where he had been, placing new sheets and pillows. Then I looked in the waiting room and saw his parents and his little sister, Stacy. His mom was crying hysterically, while her husband held her, as little 6 year old Stacy started crying, but didn't fully understand what was going on. Alex's mom looked up as I walked into the room, and I immediately started crying hysterically, my knees buckling until they couldn't hold me up, and I sank into the floor, wishing I could be a part of it.

"I- I'm- so sorr-y, it's all- m-my fault." I said, through sobs, as soon as I could find the strength to get the words out.

"No, no honey. It's not you're fault. It's not." Alex's mom said, hugging me, wiping her eyes, trying to stay strong, even though inside, she was a complete mess.

The week of Alex's funeral is all pretty much a blur. All I really remember, is crying until I couldn't cry anymore, crying when something reminded me of Alex, crying as I saw my front door, the pictures, when I smelled the cologne he used to wear, when I looked at his sister, who loves me, and is like a little sister to me. I remember trying to stay strong during the burial service, holding Stacy's tiny hand in mine, watching as they lowered the love of my life into the ground. All Stacy knew, was that Alex was gone. Not how, or why, just that he went away. She didn't understand he wasn't coming back. I could imagine how hard it must be for her parents, to try to explain it all to her.

I guess I have a pretty good reason to give up on love. I'm convinced that Alex was the one for me, but apparently not if everything happens for a reason. I was always a believer of that, up until Alex was gone. I can't find the reason for that. It just doesn't make any sense. Why did he deserve to be hit by some jackass drunk driver? Why the hell did it have to be Alex? He was the most amazing guy I have ever known. What really pisses me off, is how young he was. We were just about to start our lives, hopefully together, but we had to have some stupid fight. No his remains are buried under dirt and a depressing headstone that reads :


Here lies Alex Pelozzi,
November 12th 1989-October 22nd 2009
Beloved son, brother,
And friend

He would have been 20 years old in 21 days from the day he died. I had even gotten him a gift already. I remember going to visit his grave on his birthday. It was the first time I could bring myself to go after the burial. I stayed there the whole day, half of which was raining. I didn't really mind the rain, since I was already drowning in my tears anyway. I brought the wrapped present to his grave. At first I left it sitting there, unopened, as I talked to him, and wished him happy birthday. I wonder to this day if he saw me there and heard what I was saying to him, or maybe he was actually right next to me. I was just going to leave the gift there, with all the flowers, including the dark blue tulips, with a few yellow daisies mixed in, that I had brought for him, to represent the night sky.

Tulips were his favorite flower, and daisies are mine. It was perfect, but the only problem was that I had to lay them in front of his grave, instead of planting them in my front yard, like I had planned out. I had a plan to plant them all over the front yard, and set up a romantic picnic under the stars. It would have been so perfect. The gift I had bought him was a gold chain with a key, and a dog tag necklace with our anniversary date and our names. It said:

Alex & Heather,
Forever and beyond the stars.
4-19-05

I know he would have loved it. I sat in front of his grave, staring down at the chain in my hand reading over and over. "Forever and beyond the stars." If only things really could last forever. I took the chain and put it in a neat pile next to the box, and the flowers in the grass. As I was walking away, I turned around, ran back and took the chain, putting it around my own neck. I promised myself that I would wear it to remind myself of Alex, not that I would forget for a second how much I love him. I always will. Sometimes, it feels as though part of me died that day, and went with Alex. Like his soul ripped my heart right out of my chest and took it with him.

I still wear the chain today, and will continue to wear it, most likely until I die also. That is the only thing I really have that belonged to Alex, or rather would have belonged to him, besides this one shirt. He was going to throw it out when we were 15, because he outgrew it. At that point, we were still just friends, and I secretly took the shirt home with me, which he found out later when we started dating. I loved wearing that shirt, but now, since he's gone, it just doesn't feel right. I can't wear it anymore, but I can't throw it out either. For now I have it in the back of my closet, hanging on a hanger, hidden by other clothes, so I don't see it every time I open the closet and cry. I do enough crying just thinking about Alex. Seeing his shirt in my closet would just make it worse.

I guess it's just better to just not fall in love at all unless you know you are falling into the pages of a fairytale. Because honestly, I don't believe I can ever find love again, or be happy. How could I feel happy without Alex, that has to be impossible. So now what do I do? Well for now, I guess all I can do is sit by the water, staring out into the immense, deep blue waters, trying to make sense of it all. I'm sitting here as the sun sets, just as I do every day since Alex is gone. Always the same bench, same water, same skyline off into the distance, but always a different sky. I never stay past sunset. I go home before the stars come out and light up the night sky. The only thing different today besides the sky, is that I'm letting my feelings out onto the paper for once.

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I stopped writing, and started crying, the instant I closed the notebook. My hand subconsciously started fiddling with Alex's chain around my neck. The chain was long enough to look down and be able to read the words. As I looked down, I began crying even harder, which I always do when I look at it. It was now getting a bit worn, with a few scratches on it, but none on the words, only around them. I wiped my tears away and let the chain hang around my neck again, taking my eyes off of it once again. I quickly gathered my bag, shoving the notebook into it. As I stood up, I wasn't really paying attention, and walked right into a guy riding his bike. Thank goodness he wasn't going too fast, but it still hurt when he crashed into me.

Part of the handlebar hit into my arm and cut it open. Actually now that I think about it, it hurt like hell. The guy jumped off his bike, and asked if I was okay and kept apologizing to me.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to hit you, I tried to go around you but I couldn't slow down in time, are you okay?" He asked me, looking concerned.

"Well yes, but no, it wasn't you're fault though, that was all me." I said, looking down. Then I looked up into his eyes, and almost fell backwards.

He must have noticed, because he changed his expression, looking a little confused, and couldn't help but grin, most likely due to the ridiculous face I was making.

"Are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost." He questioned.

"Yeah, um- you- you just look like someone I used to know." I stuttered, tears once again swelling up in my dark green eyes. Despite the tears and the pain, I couldn't help but smile.

My eyes were so red from crying, that they probably looked like Christmas day, with the combination of my green irises looking like an evergreen tree, decorated by red and white decorations in the whites of my eyes, that were way more red than white.

"You actually kind of look like a girl I used to know too." He said, looking down at his feet, shifting his weight from one leg to the other.

He paused for a second and then continued, quickly, still looking down. "You have the same hair, and the same smile, just like Jessie had." He paused again, and then cleared his throat, as if it was closing, keeping him from letting any words out.

"Jessie was my girlfriend, and she was murdered. I didn't even get to say goodbye to her." He said, quietly, as I noticed a single tear fall down his cheek. He looked up at me again, and noticed I was crying too. "Oh, I'm so sorry, I- you don't even know me and- well- I'm sorry, you don't need to listen to this." He stuttered.

"My boyfriend, Alex, was hit by a drunk driver and died." I blurted out. I felt weak in the knees once again, and had to sit back on the bench. My arm was still bleeding quite a bit, but I didn't even care. I was back to crying my eyes out once again. The guy sat down next to me, and instinctively put his arm around me for comfort. We both sat there crying, as the sun slowly disappeared into the blurry horizon line. This was the first time a guy had put his arm around me since Alex had. It was actually kind of nice, and comforting. I felt safe.

It was beginning to get dark. I dried my tears again, and sat up. "I should probably get home, it's getting late, and it's a long story, why I can't be out when the stars are out." I said, looking over at the guy I had just met, who looked so much like Alex.

It was crazy, how his eyes looked exactly like Alex's eyes. Even his hair was the same, dirty blonde short hair. He could have been Alex's long lost brother.

Neither of us had realized how bad the cut on my arm was, until I tried to stand up and brushed the cut against the side of the bench. I yelped in pain, and we both immediately looked at the cut.

"It looks like you might need some stitches in that, do you want me to go with you to the hospital?" He asked, looking concerned.

"I hate hospitals, and I don't even know you, I couldn't ask you to do that for me. I'll be okay. I kind of want a bad-ass scar." I said, smiling, looking right at him.

"My name's Chase. Now you know me, but I won't bring you somewhere you hate if you don't want to go, but you should at least let me walk you home, and maybe buy bandages for you, it's the least I could do." He said, smiling back at me.

His smile was bright, just like Alex's. I was still in awe at how much he looked like my dead boyfriend. There was no way I could say no to that smile, not that I really wanted to anyway.

"My names Heather." I said, as I turned away and started walking, as he stood there. Then I looked back after a few steps. "Well, are you escorting a wounded girl home to make sure she's okay, or not?" I said, grinning.

Chase grabbed his bike and walked quickly a few steps, wheeling his bike next to him, until he was caught up to me.

Despite my arm bleeding, and just talking about my dead boyfriend and crying about it, this is probably the happiest I had felt in a long time. For the first time, I didn't feel guilty about being happy.

To be continued...