Voicemails

I met him on a Monday, or that's how the songs always go. Truth is, it was probably a Saturday, just like any other Saturday really. I didn't know he was going to change my life. But do you ever really know? All I knew was there was a crazy magnetic attraction to him and I had to find out why. It was like for a moment things had aligned and I almost had it all. Didn't we almost have it all? He always left me with just a little bit more longing. Like when you are so close to the finish line and know if you push a little further you can take it. Just a little bit further, just a little bit more. It was as if I couldn't get enough of him. He was my drug of choice, but always just a little out of reach leaving me constantly fiending. There wasn't enough moments, seconds, hours in a day. There was never enough hellos and goodnights. There could never had been enough phone calls, pick me ups, car drives and text messages. I could get lost in the delicate seconds falling away behind us. Hearing him laugh, watching him move, breathing him in. He never knew this, I don't think I was strong enough to tell him. To connect feelings to words and let it soak into the universe. He made me want to be better. To do better. To push forward and never give up. Just never give up. He wouldn't let me. He wouldn't let me be down or turn into myself. He was there unconditionally, telling it like it was. Giving me what I needed, not what I needed to hear. He was the light in every room. The single ray of sunshine fighting through on the rainest of days. He never needed to be anything other then himself. He never had to put on an act, to hide how he felt. He didn't need liquid confidence or to be life of the party. It came naturally. He made life a better place. He kept me in place and on pace.He was mine and he left too soon. So I turned inward. I turned to the places where I could drown out my thoughts and numb my feelings. I turned to affection without attatchment. To a life a little more lost then me. Falling apart to bottle of rye and gin. To cases of liquid confidence and liquid courage. Liquid courage letting me face the world, transforming it into less of a bleak face. Turned to nights with memory loss so it wouldn't be that bad that I was forgetting the sound of his voice or the feel of his skin. Trying to hard to be the life of the party, to be the light in the life. Like he would have been. But it's tiring trying to fill that void and try to take over in his memory. I would have stopped the world for him so we could have a neverending moment together. I would have been the person he wanted me to be. Be there for him on the darkest days. I would have woke up every morning with a smile because I knew he had been up already watching me sleep. That's all he needed, to watch me in my sleep. I was done. I didn't want anyone else. There was no point looking because there was nothing better out there. Maybe there isn't anything better out there. But as the saying goes, the good die young. I think the good part of me died too.