Andry's Diary

Her hair was almost white in the dark, and I could feel her breath on my skin.

"Andry?"

"What?"

"Why is your heart beating so hard?"

"I...I don't really like the dark. Sorry."

"Why didn't you just say so?" She leaned over and flipped on the lamp beside her bed. She understood me. She didn't think I was stupid for being afraid of stupid things. She was nice about me being crazy. She let me keep my antidepressants in her bathroom for when I stayed over. She slept with a light on because I'm afraid of the dark. She was perfect.

My parents thought I was staying late studying with her. Her dad was working late. Later, I would call my parents and tell them I was going to some boy's house. They actually thought teenaged boys have sleepovers. They were just happy I was doing something 'normal'. Her dad would come home at one in the morning and go straight to bed. Her mother is dead.

It wasn't wrong because I loved her. I love her.

Her pillow always smelled like lavender. I can still smell it, if I try. Her hair smelled the same way. Her skin smelled clean, a kind of soapy girl-clean that is impossible to replicate. It was soft. She was always so soft.

She could kiss me and touch me and I didn't feel like a scared little boy who couldn't remember what the sun looked like. I felt like myself, whoever or whatever myself is. I knew it then and I haven't since.

I miss her. What am I supposed to do without her? I don't know who I am. I feel like baggage everyone carries around and everyone wishes they didn't have. I'm living in the dark again.

They can give me pills that keep me neutral and pills that make me forget and pills that steep me in dreamless sleep. But they can't give me pills to make me stop loving her.