This is the beginning to another story I've been working on. I'm not sure if I want to continue with it or not. If it interests you, review or message me. Bye, x.
There comes a time in your life when you're faced with an experience that rewires your brain. You start to think differently, act differently. You realize how precious life is and also how fleeting. You look back on your previous endeavors prior to this experience and wonder how you could ever act the way you have acted because now, you've matured. This type of experience is usually subsequent to another: loss. There comes a time in your life when you experience a loss, whether you're prepared or not. The cold, dark hands of death give you no warning. A man that you worked with at your first real job passing away is sad and you pay your respects to his family but your life moves on from it because you weren't greatly affected. But what happens when you lose a significant other or a best friend or all that wrapped in one? The one you've known since you were facing the harsh in-between called adolescence. The one you've shared secrets with under the weeping willow tree, eating Drumsticks ice creams. The same person you entered that first year of high school with when you were so scared that you wouldn't make any friends or that you would be deemed unpopular because you didn't have the right shoes or hair. The one you experienced your first real kiss with under the shade of the bleachers one day after your high school football team won their first victory. The one you gave yourself to emotionally and physically when you felt the time was right. The one you consoled when her parents were fighting about matters you were too young to fully understand. The same person you'll love unconditionally.
How do you cope with the loss of someone who knew so much about you? The memories you shared with them won't decay like their breathless body but still remain, inside of you, tugging at your heart and pounding in your brain. For some people, it's best to accept the loss and move on with their life because they know that the person they lost would hate to see them moping around. But for me, I wouldn't know how to move on. When you let so much of yourself be vulnerable to someone other than your well protected diary that you've had since you were eight, letting go of someone you love and cherish is hard. Not only will their body not be with you anymore, but the better half of yourself as well.
I lost my grandfather when I was ten. My fondest memory of him was when I was six, sitting on this itchy, red carpet he had in his den. He was smoking one of those Cuban cigars my mother got him for Father's Day. The smell wafted through the room and clung to any surface that would absorb it. He looked down at me and said, "Mija, you are a disappointment and you will always be a disappointment." I wasn't quite sure what I did to make him say that but he kissed me on the forehead, his scruffy mustache grazing along my skin and the smell of liquor and smoke greeted my nose.
When he died four years later, I felt no remorse because the only memory I had of him was him telling me I was a disappointment. At the funeral, I was sandwiched between my mother and my Abuela, crying from the loss of her husband. I, however, didn't shed one tear. My family members looked at me in disgust and I was deemed "heartless" at the age of ten. The name held true with everyone I encountered except for one, my best friend, my counterpart, my girlfriend, Brittany S. Pierce. I suffered a loss once and I pray that I don't have another one.