I was lost in my own world, writing down my story - no, our story - in my book. To anyone, it was just like the average person's diary. Brown leather cover, white sheets of thin paper, and a little strap that kept it closed with velcro. However, the contents of it held the story of my romance with Jade, the girl of my dreams. I still can't forget you. I still . . . can't trust everything. Even today . . . I can't send you away like this.
I took out a photo of her, to keep her memory alive (despite the fact she isn't dead). Black hair that fell to her shoulders, pale ivory skin, and emerald green eyes framed by glasses. To me, no girl can match her. Her wonderful presence, lovely personality . . . and her kind smile . . .
I will re-write it again. Our story will not end. I thought to myself. I will ignore the fact that the reality of your departure is seeping into my skin for now. I will re-write it once again. The beginning with you and I smiling happily.
The setting so far is a small room without an exit, so she can't leave me. I kiss her as if there's nothing wrong, in the story, of course. I can't leave her sweet presence. There is no such thing as an end for us.
I can't forget her. In my heart (and on paper) I'm writing a story with no ending. I will hold onto Jade. I won't let her go. Even today, I'm still in the story of you and I that hasn't ended in fiction.
In the story right now, there are only happy stories. The very happy ones of just the two of her and I is written. It's slowly, so slowly, filling up. In my mind, I run towards Jade and embrace her, and I can never let her go from it. There is no such thing as an end for us.
My mind always drifts off about her and I, and manifesting in words in my book. Her happy face, the moments we had, messing around on my piano like we were kids just learning. I'll say this again. I thought as I visualized another scene of her and I together. Right now you are next to me. I'm believing like that.
But . . . Jade wasn't. The scene I visualized made reality smack me in the face. The end of this novel, how am I supposed to write it? I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I keep writing those three words. Realizing that the paper was stained with my tears, I set the worn out pen on it. Everything is fiction. I am the writer who has lost his purpose. Right now, I am writing such a happy story. But it's all just a wish . . .
In the daydream that is playing in my head, I was walking up to Jade in a blistering-hot desert. She stood in her normal attire, a green tank top, with green leggings to match, a black pleated skirt, and black boots with silver designs. As I kept on walking closer to her, I reached out to touch her face. But . . . a tear slid down from her cheek, and she just dissolved and blew away in the wind. Gone.
I fell down to my knees like I was stabbed in the heart with a knife, and my hands slammed down on the sand. For a brief moment, I pictured Jade's smile, and I felt myself begin to cry as the reality did another harsh blow on me. Then, I disintegrated into fragments and disappeared just as Jade did.
When I snapped back to reality. I was really on my knees crying. I looked at myself in the mirror. My purple eyes were puffy and red, and my blond hair got a little messed up. I shuffled out of my house, wiping the tears away. In the end, it was all fiction. I should have taken it like a man. Still . . . I'm happy that we're together . . . in fiction.
Jade
"Hello, is anyone home?" Jade called out. "Well, I guess not."
She proceeded to enter the empty house, despite it not being her own home. Why Shadow told me to come to Nathan's house, I don't know.
In her own thoughts, Jade bumped into a bookshelf, and one book fell out from the impact. Jade picked it up out of curiosity, because it had no title like the others. She then read through all the pages. It contained things that had to do with . . . her and Nathan. A tear slid down her cheek and fell on the already tear-stained paper when she read what it said on the last page.
"Right now, I'm writing such a happy story, but it's all just a wish . . . Still . . ."