I love Gwendolyn Franklin with all of my heart. I believe she loves me back. She is my warm summer breeze. Even in the winter time she can lift me up so high I almost forget the depression which had become the roots of my existence. She used to call me her melancholy mistress, and I guess I was. I was, but not anymore. Gwendolyn Franklin didn't live to see this story. She didn't live to see the love letter I wrote to her after she left that day, and she didn't live to see the many more I would write after she passed on.
She was special, to say the least. She had this way with words that made you feel like everything was okay, even when you were being dragged through a living hell. I never saw the sky quite as clear as her eyes, and I probably never will. Every day is cloudy now. I miss her, and I wish she was here. I wish she was here to tell the story of our love together. I wish I could be more brave but I can't. I wish I could be her, but I can't. I'm just Macey. Macey Not-Franklin. Macey Never-Will-Be-Franklin.
Gwendolyn, I miss you already. When you left today you forgot to kiss me goodbye. When I woke you were already gone. I found the sweatshirt you had worn to bed last night on the floor at the foot of the bed so I put it on. I didn't put it on so I could wear your sweatshirt. I put it on so I could wear you. It still felt warm to the touch, even though it probably wasn't... I think it was just my heart telling me that you were wearing the same sweatshirt just an hour or so before. It still smells like you, and it almost feels like you are here with me while I'm writing this. Anyways, I just wanted to tell you how much I miss you when you're gone. I'd be lost without you.
Love always,
Macey
Gwendolyn and I met back in my sophomore year of highschool. Her family moved into the other side of my family's duplex. We became best friends right away. We were both artists. She, a painter, and me, a writer. We did our own things, but we always inspired each other to do our best. Most of the stories I wrote were for her. It gave them purpose. Oh, how she inspired me. It's like when she was around there was this fire that burst out of the cold smoldering embers that were deep inside of me, reigniting a flame long forgotten.
We had a lot in common. Most of all, we were both being raised by single parents. Her mother died when she was six after an aggressive battle with breast cancer. I never heard much of that story because it made her cry. There was nothing I hated more than when I saw her crying. It made me miss her beautiful smile. My father was an asshole, and he probably still is if he is alive. He was an alcoholic and a very mean drunk. He would beat my mother and myself. I remember one time he threw a pint glass at me because I had tripped over the television cord and unplugged it while he was watching the football game. It was a total accident. The glass had shattered everywhere, but my mother cleaned it up and got him a new glass, filled with beer, and assured me everything was okay. I haven't seen him since the police got involved, but this isn't about me. This is about Gwendolyn.
Gwen, wherever you are. My heart burns for you. I haven't had a day go by since you left me where I haven't cried. I miss your laugh. I miss your corny jokes. I miss the paintings. I had forgotten how dark the world could be without you in it. I don't think we were ever apart for this long since the day that we met. The day that I fell in love with you. I know my pain is nothing compared to what you must have had to go through, but it feels like being here without you may be a fate worse than death. A fate worse than closing your eyes, and going to sleep forever. I miss the way your eyes glimmer when you tell me you love me. I miss how you smell. Most of your clothes have lost your scent already, and things aren't the same without you. It took me a long time to write this because my hands won't stop shaking. I'll put this message in a bottle and throw it off the bridge where we had our first kiss. I hope wherever you are, it reaches you.
I miss you,
Macey
I guess some things are just meant to be. It took me a long time to confess the truth. That I loved you... but I think some part of me always knew. I remember the day we first kissed like it was yesterday. It was raining and the river under that little bridge in the park was running fast. You told me you'd rather dive into the river on a day like today than to be with anybody besides me. I feel the same way, Macey. I don't know where the river leads, but I bet it would take me far away from this town. There's nothing left for me here except broken memories. You were my world, and my world was you.
