Journal Entry #9
July 12th
10 months since
Today was supposed to be one of the happiest days of our lives. The day every little girl dreams about. The day you and I planned together. Our wedding day. This was supposed to be the day you and I became Mr. and Mrs. I was looking forward to this day before everything happened. Now I sit here, at my desk that sits in the corner of our room, writing in a journal, my fingers playing with your engagement ring. I wasn't supposed to have this. It's yours Ally. It's always been yours, and always will be. I'm just holding onto it until I can give it to you again. I miss you so much sweetheart. I know you are probably getting annoyed with me for saying that but it's true. It's never not going to be true. I find myself missing the things that we won't ever get to do. I miss that I'll never get to see you walk down the isle towards me in a stunning white dress, I miss that I won't get to slip on a wedding band, legally binding our love for each other, I miss the fact that we will never get to have kids together, perfect mixtures of you and I running around our house that we would buy. I miss the fact that I'll never get to grow old with you. That I'll never get to experience life's milestones with you. It's all been taken away from me and I miss all the things I've never had. I'm thankful for Raven and Julia. They've delt with canceling the venue and honeymoon and informing all the guests that somehow missed the fact that you've been gone for 10 months. Without them, I don't know what I'd do. We have some pretty great friends, sweetheart. I gotta get back to crying, it's one of my favourite past times for the last ten months. I'm just teasing, maybe. I love you sweetheart.
Forever yours, alex
YOU ARE READING
Surviving You
Short Story"And as I hold my crying, broken girl in my arms at the doctors office, I realize the true meaning of unconditional love. There isn't anything that could happen that would make me stop loving her. I'll always love her. My heart will forever be hers...
