Hello. My name is Allen Walker, and I know what it's like to fall in love.
Every time it's the same thing, a drowning feeling, like your whole life is being sucked away with the force of a whirlpool sinking down into the sand that just sucks you up. Its helpless, it's crazy, and its unexplainable.
I always have fallen in love with the wrong people. First, I fell in love with my family. My parents, so caring and strong, I loved them will all my heart.
They left me on a side corner as a child with the empty promise of coming right back, of a surprise. They lied.
I loved my father next, Mana Walker, who gave me my name. Before, I don't remember, but I was called something else. I loved Mana, will all my heart, for he was my real parent. Sure, he was a mentally unstable clown who technically kidnapped me, but I wasn't needed or wanted, so really no one minded. Mana left me, he went on wards, leaving me on this crashing, broken, tide-less earth, change only for me, and heartbreak the same.
I next person I fell in love with was a child by the name of Lavi. I was 19, when I found him, alone and shivering on a street corner. I took him in, cared for him as Mana cared for me, and watched with pain as they buried his tiny body under ten feet of soil, dying from leukemia.
I was alone then, but I should have learned my lesson. Next it was two great people, great friends I made as I moved on, then 26 and looking for a job. They were Komui, and Lenalee Lee, owners of a sweet little café, full of sweet smells and cooking food. I fell in love with my family, as they had become, until one day again life took them away. In a haze of smoke and ash, they took the two I loved quicker than I could even blink.
31, was when it happened again. By then my hair had begun to turn white, genes my doctors had said, and I was feeling so bitter and just old. I worked as a business partner, the job requiring me to sit hours in a cubicle and talk on the phone to strangers I had never met, and would never again talk to.
Until again life decided I wasn't fit to have a good life. I got a wrong number, a man yelling on the other line about someone leaving him in the parking lot. I had calmly explained that no, this wasn't his brother, but was just met with more profanities and an underlying sense of panic. I found out where he was, right across from where I was working.
So I took my break, and hustled over there to see a slightly older man with shaggy black hair and a blue scarf, sitting there in the cold in a metal wheelchair, shaking and rubbing his hands together with a scowl. So I took him home.
He invited me in, rather rudely at that, and against what my mind was telling me, I followed my heart. That was when I fell in love again, with a dying man.
Life has never been kind to me, and I don't know why but I know I deserve it. I hear the whispers of my past lives, and I know that is just Karma. But at least life let me meet him, to know my soul mate.
I'm not going to do anything crazy, like kill myself, but every night I am here, at this grave, and waiting patiently for that day when it will start again.
And maybe next time I can get my happy ending.
Sorry, uh yeah. GO YULLEN.
