I told myself that I would go to bed early tonight, or at least at a decent time.
But nope. 2 AM, here I am, wide awake, crying my heart out.
Over a boy. Who left. In March.
Those who know me know what boy I'm taking about and understand why I'm crying. One of you upon my own request may tell me to suck it up and get over it.
But I fear she is in a state worse than mine, so I am not going to burden her with my insignificant emotional damage.
He left March 22nd, 2014.
Let's count the months together, shall we?
March, April, May, June, July.
In one week it will be five months since he was forced to delete his account because of his parents.
Who literally, legitimately hated him and told him that he was a mistake, and even named him differently from his sisters out of spite.
Yes. All that is true.
Anyway, I digress.
Five months. Five stinking months and I haven't moved on.
I don't know what to feel about that.
Then, today, I come across the last, tiny conversation we had the night he left.
Ten messages.
Ten, tiny, heartbreaking messages.
They only remind me that he's gone. Yet I keep them. I forgot I had them till tonight...
It was like if family died and you came across some old facebook massages, or emails or letters even. All the pain comes flooding back.
You may be thinking this is extreme, but it's not. He was family to me. He was SO much more than family.
And now, I have no idea where he is. How he is. If he's even still alive.
That's extreme but it's a possibility.
I don't know if he's depressed. I don't know if he's happy. I don't know if he's eating ice cream with sea salt, watching Disney, Doctor Who or Sherlock. I don't know if he's with his best friend, or his sisters, or if he's done well in school. I don't know if he's making an innuendo or using an inside joke or making a new one. I don't know if he's asleep or not. I don't know how his narcolepsy is. I don't know if he ever thinks about me, or any of us on Wattpad. I don't know if he's still writing. I don't know if he's still role-playing. I don't know if he's still in trouble or not.
I don't know if I'll ever talk to him again.
But what I do know, is that I won't be there with him, I won't be talking to him, I won't be there to help, and I won't ever know what is happening with him.
But I can hope, right?
I hope he's alive, well, happy and well-rested for once. I hope he's binge eating ice cream and sea salt and binge watching Disney, Doctor Who and Sherlock. I hope he got together with Emma. I hope his best friend is right there next to him. I hope he gets into the college he wants to get into and I hope he gets to do what he wants to and loves. I hope he remembers me, I hope he remembers all of us.
And I hope I will talk to him again, at least once.
No matter how impossible it may be, he always managed the impossible.
So, here's to hoping, and here's to Dylan.