"Good morning, beautiful!" I said to place the tray of French hot chocolate (you're favorite), a blueberry muffin, eggs, and fruit.
You have bed hair and puffy eyes (probably from the crying), and you're still in your fluffy pink pajamas.
"Thank you," you say in a cold, distant voice. As you take a sip of your hot chocolate, I take your other hand. "I know this isn't ideal, but can we spend one day together like we normally do?" I ask.
You put the cup down and looked at me with fresh tears in your eyes. "I don't know if I can. We've come so far. Why are you giving up now, Johnny?" you cry.
I let you cry on my chest. I'm taking in your scent and how warm your body is on mine. Stroking your beautiful black silky hair
After some time, you stop crying, and I say, "Please get ready, my love. We should be spending this day together. No need to waste time on tears." I say, cupping your face as you stare at me with those big, beautiful brown eyes. You nod and head to the bathroom.
We spent the day going swimming (you wore the bikini I love), going to the movies, having me teach you how to ride a bike, and going to a movie.
The whole day, I couldn't stop staring at you. I can't believe you chose to be mine. I love you so much, Cynthia.
If things were different, we would travel the world together, get married, have kids (hopefully two), and grow old together.
But as I hold you in my arms tonight, I know I had it all. As we meet for pizza and watch another movie,
On any other night, you'd be out, while I'd be home struggling with my mind to remain calm and sane.
My mind is the devil's workshop. I've hurt you and everyone else in my life in the most unimaginable ways.
I struggled every day to hide how bad it was, but soon I couldn't hide from you my injuries during my episodes; the shifts couldn't even be managed by medication.
My other side came out, and I know I was violent with you at times, but I didn't mean it. But it will keep happening, and I can't bear hurting you. Everyone else ran, but you stayed; you always did. I don't know why, but you did, and I'll always love you for it.
It's eleven thirty; it's almost time.
You look at me. You're hoping—hoping—that I've changed my mind, but I haven't.
I kiss your forehead and wipe away your tears. ''It's time. I don't want you to see me this way. You go home and thank you for a perfect day." I say it calmly.
You hug me tight, weeping bitterly; it's making my heart break.
It almost made me want to resign, but I won't. I can feel myself starting to shift, so I'll hurry you out the door.
"So this is it? You're giving up on us?" Kyle says he is defeated (he is wearing a grey suit and smoking a cigarette). I know I'm dying because I'm not able to move. This is all happening in my mind.
"It is over, Kyle. We can rest now." I reply. We're sitting in a board room, all three of us sitting around the table.
"You were always so weak. You even took the sissy way out!" Marcus screamed. He is wearing a black suit and drinking scotch.
I don't answer and think of all the good times with you, never the bad. I want to take back every argument every day I made you cry because of me. I imagine the life we could have had if it wasn't for my mind.
They are quiet now; my eyes are heavy, and I can't lift my head anymore.
My eyelids are heavy like I haven't slept in days. I can't hold them open anymore.
Don't cry too much for me. I can finally rest, and you are finally free.
In your black suits and dresses, I see you all crying and holding each other. My mother is crying, and my father is holding her.
My younger sibling is silent, peering into the darkness.
It saddens me. I'm dressed to the nines in a suit. It's funny since I've never worn a suit in my life. I should've worn them more often.
And there you have it. My dear, you look stunning in black. Your gorgeous black hair falls over your shoulders, you're a lighter shade of red than normal, and you're wearing minimal makeup.
You hug my father and sit next to my mother. You don't want to, but she forces you to. My love, thank you for being there for the final time before we meet again.
Merci pour la lecture!
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