He is imperfect. Short, freckled, quiet. Intelligent with stunning blue eyes. Depressed and anxious. Heart broken and ostracized.
To me he is perfect. But he has been gone for quite some time now, locked away in a mental hospital I know he abhors. I didn’t know how much he meant to me until he wasn’t there. My days became more dull, I stopped smiling as much. I became sensitive, I holed up in my room, dreaming impossible dreams of a life with him.
I began to forget his voice. His beautiful face. His small stature compared to my tall one. The notes we would write each other when we were supposed to be paying attention.
I rarely get out of bed now, and when I do it is only for school. I stay in bed and watch movies about happy couples and high school romances. I keep planning all the wonderful things I will do when he gets back like become vegan and work out more and may be even socialize a little more.
But for now those are just dreams. In reality, my eyes are lifeless and I am stuck in this period of limbo. I am not religious but I pray to different gods for his return. Sometimes I purposely skip my medication in hopes that I might join him. Sometimes I worry that I will never see him again, that his clear blue eyes will never again meet my bland brown ones. I couldn’t bear that. And maybe the thought of that would make me end up going where he was.