His Message to Her
I needed someone to tell me that it was okay. That it didn't matter what I did, or how I did it, just so it was still okay and it didn't matter anymore. Someone to tell me that I wasn't a horrendous jerk…that my life hadn't been some kind of sick mistake, and that the dark past that was waiting for me in my dreams could be erased. Or at least fade so the pain wasn't so strong and alive in me. I needed her. I would deny it to my very bones if anyone told me I needed her, but it was true, I did. Everything that she stood for, I needed. She accepted what was right in front of her when no one else would care to look. She searched my eyes, my cold, dark eyes, and found something else. She found what I had cried for that day. The day when I had lost my life. After I got it back, they were still there, more unshed tears and more grief. And she found it. She was like some kind of unearthly angelic being that I will never deserve. But she made me real for the first time in my life. For that, and everything else she could possibly think about doing for me, I thank her. I thank her with my eyes, my hands, and someday, I might even thank her with the words.