I remember getting on that plane; the one leaving forever. She looked at me with eyes that for the moment seemingly held all of the oceans of the world. We didn’t need to speak, the moment didn’t require any words. Some loud, bustling airport surrounded us, but we were at the center of our lives. I could tell she didn’t want to blink; one blink would wreck it all. But that ocean demanded it of her. Her quiet tears were the loudest thing in my universe. I’ve never felt so loved. I see it as if it were yesterday; it’s burned into my memory. I wanted to cry too, but I let that little instant slip away. My tears would come in due course. She was without doubt one of the most wonderful, kind, and strong individuals I've ever known. We don’t speak anymore. Time, distance, and fault of my own have ensured that. I let her down; I failed someone I loved. But I remember that last hug, that last, salty, gentle goodbye kiss. It wasn't contrived and magnificent like Hollywood and the big screen. It wasn't lusting and obnoxious, likely it was even unbeknownst to the passers-by. But my God it wasn't ordinary. It was loss, grand and authentic. It was the feeling of finishing the best novel you've ever read; beautiful sadness. It was life, pure and clean, and it pulled harshly at the chords deep in the instrument of whatever rests inside us, whatever makes us feel. We were something so much more than friends, but something just slightly less than everything. That little bit less destroyed it all, but looking back, it needn't have. I learned so very much from her, I like to think she made me a better person. Sometimes I regret getting on that plane. Half a world away, I think that sometimes she does too. Staring out my window, the raindrops trickle down the panes that offer the greyest of backdrops; storm clouds above the sea. Sometimes looking out is looking in.
Live long, and die young,
Spatter
Live long, and die young,
Spatter
