I remember her last words on the paper that she left me that day. It was a slightly crumpled piece of copy paper from the printer and it didn't have her usual handwriting. Instead of being the beautiful cursive that she wrote on the small magnetic whiteboard on the refrigerator almost every time she came over, it was rushed and sometimes crude compared to the beautiful, elegant and graceful calligraphy that flowed from her hands. But nevertheless, hers.
And I don't think that it said too much.
I remember only a few months ago when she was happier back then. When her face lit up with happiness and the ambition to do more and know more from her colleagues. To excel out of everything. She certainly held that capacity. And her face seemed younger and more happier than what it became. Her eyes sparkled and they looked wonderful in grey.
Her eyes. I remember them so well. If I could describe them, they were an atmosphere of iridescence that held blue streams of light and some white as well. They looked like a nebula that I could've gotten lost in whenever I focused too much then. A whirlpool of my dreams. If I had any.
But then when I looked at her eyes and her face the last few times I saw her, her face still carried the beautiful quality that the skin knew. And what the pain brought to her was the maturity that she showed in her face, her complexion and her eyes. Her face a little mournful from all the stress that she now carried on her shoulders. She was carrying the world at a time when she couldn't. And her eyes held no longer the youthful whirlpool that I loved so much out of everything physical about her. Even the little things that lustful men desire.
And I remember one of the last times I saw her alive. Enough to walk and talk. She asked me to come over, to drive to the rural desert. To go to Picacho Peak and spend some time there. No matter what, it reminded me of how this would turn out for me. How I knew that I would go home broken and wounded, like a dog that needed to be saved. Because that would be it. It was all a plan. The final destination. The end of the path. The moment where you meet Death as an old friend. And you leave with a newfound friend. To something, I guess.
When I was walking up to the peak of the mountain, I thought about what we would do. Maybe share what was going on with our lives, what was bound to happen. What would life be like without the other. Because she was weak, she was frail and she knew that her time was near. And we knew each other for about fourteen years, she was my first childhood friend. We knew each other like a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, the cream in a cup of coffee, the humans on the planet Earth. We went well together, we had this.. connection if you ever thought about it that way. Never romantic. And when I raged on and yelled for no reason, she would calm me down and she would sometimes hug me if I ever cried.
And god, she loved anime. Should I say that? Yeah, I guess I'll say it anyway.
So when I got there, she just smiled at me until I sat down. And just when I wanted to say something, I asked her what happened? Like a fucking idiot. But she told me anyway. She admitted to me that she was scared. Not like the 'scared' that I knew throughout my life, but a new one if you thought about it that way. You couldn't tell from her face really, but inside. If I could compare it to anything, it would be the highest spin setting on a washer. She was scared. I believed in my little head that day that she knew her time would come soon. They were waiting and she wanted to give me her last goodbye, to make it stick in the back of my head so that way I would never forget.
It was more or less the late afternoon and the sky wanted to evoke the pastel colors so badly. We were sitting down at the top, watching the sky and not talking. Words failed us and the lumps in our throats. And as a bolt from the blue, she carried that luster and mesmerizing beauty that I remembered so much. Death seemed to grant her youth one last time, for me. As a fucked up way to console me at a time when I needed someone, anyone, the most.
Guess Death has a sense of humor.
And she snaked her hand onto mine. She squeezed it that day like it was the last time. And then, she turned around and looked at me with those eyes. Hell, I could never forget those eyes. That whirlpool galaxy that I adored. She looked at me straight in my eyes and told me that she was scared, she didn't know what was going to happen. She didn't know at all what to do. She felt helpless. And seeing those eyes, seeing those colors again. And just thinking what any melodramatic teenager would do, for so much time...
I started to have tears in my eyes and they let open the floodgates. I was the first one to cry. And she started to let out a few tears or so. I guess she knew as well. Before I knew it, she pulled me in for our last embrace. It just felt so much more than all the other times we hugged. She buried her face on my shoulder and I let out a few sobs on hers. I gripped tighter and tighter. Increasing, ever ascending. Her hands were grazing my back and I just held her like I didn't want to let go. GOD, I was so full of myself. And I said that I was gonna miss her. She said that she would miss me. And all I could do was hold her.
I guess that wasn't asking for too much for a sob story.
When we got back to the ground, I asked her where her car was. She said she didn't have one. She was dropped off by one of her friends, Lucy, and wanted to spend the night with me doing whatever I wanted. The only rule was that I had to return her at her house tomorrow.
That weirded me out, she wasn't usually the one to do stuff like this. If anything at all, she was fucking serious the entire time I knew her. Nevertheless, there was no way in hell that I wasn't gonna do this. If she wanted me to do this, then I would do it. It reminded me of the spot that Kaylon told me about a long time ago. So, we spent at least
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