When she died, I was sad.

When she died, I was terrified.

Terrified. Scared. Horrified, petrified, shell-shocked. But, in the end, I was just plain terrified.

Because I knew (me, myself, I knew) that a life with out her wasn't really life.

When she wasn't there, no happiness could affect me.

No sunshine could get through.

No laughs could change my mind. After all, no laugh compared to hers.

There is a huge difference between sorrow, woe, and sadness. And a whole chasm between those pitying afflictions, and the single trouble that bothers me.

She was my band-aid that fixed my wounds. She healed me with her words, with her actions, and most of all with her feelings. She was my kiss that made everything feel better (even when things really weren't better. Not. At. All.)

They can weep. They can mope. They can cry, sulk, and think they knew her. Think that they loved her.

But no. No one (not one person) feels like I do right now. I feel lonely, shaken, wrong.

Because I was in love.

In love with Caitlyn Gellar. In love with the mere idea of her. In love with her happiness, how she shined, her laugh.

But now I don't have her, don't have her to love.

So now I (Nate Thompson, wouldn't you like to know?) am absolutely, positively, and indefinitely terrified.

-------------------------------------------------------

I know, pretty predictable. Sorry. :/ I really like how we put emphasis on things with the different styles of text, and I really just want to say that I'm not trying to copy anyone. Anyways, this was WAYY different for me. Tell me how I did! Thankies!

~StroodleDoodledFuhn