Forgive me if this oneshot isn't all that great :)
"True love is just like an eternal flame, they say. And, now researchers have also confirmed that real bonding never dies - instead it lights"
We were best friends. No scratch that, to me, we are still best friends.
I died from leukemia. Dying wasn't hurtful. It was leaving you that hurt so much.
I am in heaven now, it's a beautiful place but I think it'll be better if you were here accompanying me.
I am always watching you from up here, even if you don't know it. Some people say watching people on Earth can turn into an addiction, but you always were, before I ended up here, anyway.
It's been two years now, since I left.
You didn't come to my funeral two years ago. I guessed you were too pained to come. I was disappointed but I understood.
You had two years to let go, but you haven't. Sometimes it's a dilemma for me to figure out whether I should be content or worried.
You don't smile no more, let alone laugh. You stare into space with deep thoughts I cannot fathom.
People talk to you, but it seems like you can't hear them. Like you're underwater and you notice them talking to you, but you don't seem to comprehend what they're uttering.
Sometimes you cry yourself to sleep. Your tears staining on your pillow. Then, when you wake up, your eyes are red with bags under. I cry when you cry.
When it rains, you like to go outside and cry because you think no one is going to notice. But I do.
You visit the cemetery everyday and talk to me. You always think you're silly for talking to a head stone. But I am always listening. I wish you'd know.
Everyday, I wish to turn back the clock and have the chance to tell you how I felt. How I feel. Nevertheless, there's nothing I could do.
It's been three years now. You're starting to smile.
The blues in your life are starting to fade away and the sun in your world is starting to shine again.
You start to strum your guitar as your passion for music came back.
There are no more bags under your eyes and your pillows are left dry when you awoke from your sleeps.
I start to smile to, when you smile.
Your life is normal once again. You laugh and listen to people dearly. You don't stare into space and you stay indoor as it rains.
You still visit me, though. At the cemetery. But less often than before. You don't speak to me anymore. You just look at me with those pleading eyes.
After a while, you stop visiting me. You pass by when you ride you bike, that is, if I am lucky enough.
The photographs of us in your room are in the bin, now. You're starting to move on. Even if I am dead, I am hurt. I am pained that you're starting to forget me.
Forgetting me without knowing how I really felt about you.
I still watch you everyday, though. You grow older and maturer. It's funny, it feels like yesterday when you said you wanted to get stuck at a candy store.
I can gradually feel you forgetting me.
Now the photographs of us are replaced with your new friends. I should be happy you've moved on. But not this way.
Sometimes I wonder if you still remember my name.
One day you find something.
You find a letter that was slipped under a book. A letter from me. A letter I wrote before I left. I wonder if you ever read it.
It was a letter with all my affection for you. I had forgotten about it.
You didn't read it, though. You threw it away. I should've known the feeling wasn't reciprocated.
As if that letter was a piece of garbage you found on the sidewalk.
I stop watching you, afterwards. I am hurt. I wonder how I could feel this way when I am supposedly dead.
But the thought of not seeing you – even when you can't see me – hurt me more.
So, I begin watching you again.
You're dating someone now. A girl who, perhaps in your criteria, much more smarter, prettier and everything else better than I am.
You are happy. So I am filled with contentment, too.
Your happiness didn't last too long, after all.
You tend to surprise her for her birthday in her home. Instead, you find her making out with some other guy. Huh, you guess he was quicker than you at giving surprises.
What I know is, I would never cheat on you. I'd promise to never break your heart, but I did when I left you.
But you don't cry. It's like she didn't matter to you. I am glad.
Instead, you surprise me.
You took my letter you've thrown away and read it.
Even if I am no longer there with you, I am frightened you will reject.
You cry after reading the letter. I don't want to be the reason you're crying. You tear the letter in two and throw it in the bin for the second time. Until now, I can't figure if the feeling's mutual or otherwise.
Your eyes starts to hold woe. I don't like it.
You start dating girls one second then breaking their hearts the next second. I know why you're doing it, because you think by hurting others, your pain would go away. You're wrong and I don't like it.
You start bailing on your homework and classes and you are disobeying your parents. You aren't being yourself.
You neglect me, too.
Sometimes I think it's me that's causing all your problems. Maybe if I hadn't go, you would be like how you used to be. Happy and cheerful.
You begin to cry again at night and stare into nothingness.
What I realize is, your new-self is a mask you put on to forget about the past. But you are unsuccessful.
My grave is lonely. I am lonely.
I smile when you ride your bike towards the cemetery.
"I hate you, Ally!" You say the three words that is breaking my heart piece by piece. "I hate the fact that you got leukemia. I hate the fact that God took you away from me. I..." I start crying. I have caused all these problems in your life. I hate me, too. "...I hate that I love you, too. I hate that it's too late now."
We cry together, even if you don't know it.
I wish with all my heart that you could at least see me. I want to tell you that everything will be alright.
After that, you never visit me again. You've moved on. And I am happy for you.
Five years had gone by since I left.
You work in Starbucks now. Part time. You still go to university and is top of the class. I couldn't be prouder.
Then, one day at work, you meet her. Someone who takes your sadness away. Someone who puts on a genuine smile on your face.
You love her and she feels the same way. You smile more often now. You look at her with hope in your eyes, with love.
Life goes on and finally, you have the courage to propose to her. Of course, she accepts.
On your wedding day, you look at her in your black suit and white dress shirt underneath and a bow tie. She wears a beautiful white gown.
You and her both promised to always love each other. She kisses you gently and whispers she'll love you forever.
What you don't know is, she's me. In another form.
Feel free to write your criticism nicely if there's anything wrong in my story ~