Blog Entry: Why are the best stories always sad?

Why are the best stories always sad? I squint into the darkness, trying to see through the midnight fog that fell upon the ghost town that once used to blossom with all the colors of the rainbow.

They killed it, tore it to pieces, nothing could stand in their way. You did, though. From the moment they set foot into our world, your eyes sparkled with something new. You wanted to fight back, to reason, to do anything in your power to make them see what we were.

You failed. Your blood spilled and mixed with the rest. They killed us all, exterminated us like rats, like vermin, unworthy of a home, of acceptance.

I survived alone. How I wish I hadn’t. I’ll never be able to live isolated, forever on the run without you by my side. Your smile will haunt me ‘till my dying day and even if I close my eyes as tightly as I can, I will still see your face looking at me in adoration. I can still feel your arms around me, your hand on my shoulder, even your lips moulding perfectly with mine. Your heartbeat was always in time with mine and I remember counting our breaths just to see if they were the same. They were.

I fled. I should’ve gone with you, but I chose to hide, to try and survive in this turmoil. What for?

My life is worthless, I have nothing except the memory of your skin on mine, the flutter of your eyelashes that tickled my shoulder when you slept on it peacefully... I can still smell the delicate scent of your unique perfume and feel the soft strands of your hair in between my fingers as I combed through it when you sat against my chest, dreaming of a future.

They killed me together with you, just because we dared to be different, we dared to love.

We paid full price for those few months of happiness.

I refuse to live without you, my love. And even if Heaven doesn’t want me, I know I’ll always be welcome in your arms.