Written Accounts of Fools Who Loved their Murderer

Melody

He was my best friend.
I never thought he'd mean so much to me, but he ended up being the thought that ran through my mind at every given moment.
At first we were strangers, of course, but day by day we got closer mentally and later emotionally. I told him so many deep, personal things, things that were so close to my being, things that made me vulnerable. I allowed myself to be bared by him, I didn't even realize it until I caught myself doing it. I never talked to people about these things, and I would never feel comfortable telling anyone about these things, except for him.
I suppose I found a home in him, a warmth, a sense of understanding I'd never seen before.
I don't think i was ever anything more than a friend to him, and he made sure everybody was aware of that.
Of course, I've never been a particularly "good" person, I wasn't as perfect as people would expect me to be, I didn't always treat him in a "correct manner" but he never minded that, or at least, that didn't stop him from being my friend, and I think that's something that could really be said about him. Something that describes him precisely.
He was so pure, kind hearted and he didn't judge who I was nor what I did, he was just... Everything I thought I needed.
I loved him so, and I will always love him for there will never be anyone like him in my life, no matter what they do, he will always be above the rest.

|August 27, afternoon|
|August 30, 2018 • 7:47 pm|