FEVRIER。
ANGE
I never forgot you. You were, are, and forever will be the reason why I wake up every morning and refuse to give up on life.
But it's so hard. I don't think I can do this without you; none of the brave choices I had made were done without you.
You taught me how to be myself. You were the first person to let me know that it was okay to be different; that it was okay to love someone—and I will never forget you for that.
Every now and then I wake up and imagine that you never left our bed, that you never went out and that you were never sick. Every single day I imagine that it was just a bad dream, and that I would wake up to the sound of your horrible jokes and corny laughter.
But alas, it isn't.
I wake up to an empty bed, I pad the floors of an empty and soulless apartment, talking to myself to fill the void you left. Whenever I think of hurting myself, I always hear your voice telling me not to do it, and that there is more to life.
But how can I see it without you?
What is my life without you? What is me without you?
I am nothing when you are not around. I let people walk all over me when I don't see or hear from you. I get calls from so many people telling me how brave I am and how I inspire them. They tell me that and I laugh humourlessly because my entire life now is nothing but a lie.
If you were here right now you would probably scold me for talking myself down that way, but that is just how it is now. My life has literally turned into hypothetical situations where I wished that you were here but you never show up.
But you were so brave, baby. I am so proud of you. They told me you shielded a child and that was how you went. They told me that you kept telling them to give me the ring no matter what; they say you had a picture of me in your hand—they say at least you left with a part of me with you but they don't know, my lord, they don't know that that was my entire soul you went away with.
Where are you, Harry? Why can't I see you? Why do I miss you so much? Why did you leave me? I want to tell you that I love you and that I am proud of you.
I know you can't hear or see me right now, but if you can Harry, know that I love you.
And I do, Harry.
I left the church after wordlessly listening to strangers showing me sympathy. They told me that you were a brave man, and that I should be proud of what you did. They were just telling me what I already knew, and I wanted nothing more than to scream in their faces and telling them just how little they knew about you.
I met your family too. You had no sibling, but a cousin you were close to. The cousin—Leigh—came with your mother. She was beautiful, with eyes that shone just like yours. She told me how much you talked about me and how much she was grateful for making her son happy and forget about his illness. She told me that you were given a year to live, which was why you decided to come to Paris to spend it before dying.
The bullet took you sooner.
I didn't know what to say when she started crying so I told her that I had to go. I didn't wait for her to reply.
I walked back to your apartment where so many memories were shared and lay on the sofa. With a sigh, I turned on the TV as well and the vinyl player I had offered myself and closed my eyes as the room filled with voices.
Your voice.
Our many recorded phone calls sessions began to replay once again and on the TV screen, there were the texts we had sent each other. The diary I had kept ever since I met you was open on the table and your smile was pulling at the strings of my heart.
On one hand, I held the drawing I had made of you close to my chest and on the other was the unlit cigarette you had the first time I met you. With a final indecisive thought, I brought a lighter to the stick and watched it glow before I began to exhale puff after puff of smoke.
"Can I tell you something, Ange?"
"Anything."
"I love you."
There was a piece of cake on the table with a candle on it. The wind blew the candle off.
The cake was left uneaten.
"Joyeux Anniversaire, mon amour."
