Diary Of Us

Tanner and I

I dreamed about you last night.

You were you and I was I.

I never really remembered my dreams from the nights before, but yesterday's was tattooed to my brain.

***

You once told me that loss is just a way of life, and love could overpower that. You said you were going through something similar.

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In my dream, I saw you in the most simple way. You spoke no words but the silence filled the gap between us that conversation could not.

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You were a stranger that caught my eye.

I was only a muse for your next project.

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It was so dark, but you brought a glow to the night.

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Did you know I missed her a lot?

I rarely talked about her. You understood.

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I began seeing you everywhere after our first encounter, but mainly at the cafe. Yet you and I still sat at opposite ends of the table until weeks later.

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You said your name was Tanner.

I nodded and responded, "Amber."

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You and I talked highly of books, sometimes, I'd read my favorite lines out loud to you. Later on, you began surprising me with handwritten quotes.

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"I enjoy talking to you. Your mind appeals to me. It resembles my own mind except you happen to be insane" -orwell

That was the first note you ever gave me. I couldn't stop laughing.

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You came over once and promised to fix the whole mess. I was grateful.

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My dad liked you, you suggested to go out on a walk. He agreed. He rarely went out with me. I think you changed him. Your slow approaches to get him out more worked, from first talking about football and then current events to having him say he wanted to go out. You had a light inside you--although I didn't think you knew that.

***

"The loneliest moment in someone's life is when they are watching their whole world fall apart, and all they can do is stare blankly" -Fitzgerald

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In my dream, you took me to the garden. Our hard work paid off. It was so colorful. You grabbed my hand and started running. I couldn't stop laughing and smiling.

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You missed one of our weekly Fitzgerald Friday sessions. I got worried. You called me the next morning and your voice was weak and tired. You had a cold, but when I went to visit you, you were not home.

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One day you saw me cry. One whole year without her had passed. I wore my mother's dress. I faltered through my tears and said, "I feel so alone." You stood by me in silence. Before the end of the night, you slid a note into my hand.

"All great and precious things are lonely" -Steinbeck

I cried even harder after I read it.

***

You began to sketch me, but within a few minutes your hand started hurting and you couldn't move it. You said you had been drawing too much. You and I sat on a blanket in a field of grass. Instead of sketching, you started talking about Salinger's work.

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You missed another hangout. Two then became three, three then became four. And I continued to get worried, but you told me not too.

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I always had fun around you. I never had a bad day with you. You didn't only change my dad. You changed me too. Sometimes I'd forget why I was the way I was before I met you.

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One day you sat across from me at a table, and that was the day I realized you were a special gift for me. I flipped through my journal from beginning to end, my entries had shifted from dark to light. My last entry was written a few weeks back. It was my shortest entry.

I think I like Tanner.

***

I saw you differently after that. But I noticed your eyes weren't as bright as the days before, you ate less around me, and you'd lose your train of thought more often. I just wanted to see you smile more--like before. I observed the fact that you stopped drawing around me.

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You finally told me what was going on. That was the first time I cried since my mother's one year. I didn't know what to do. Neither did you.

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You held my hand as we passed a busy street. Although your hands were coarse and rough, your warmth radiated to me. I knew you were trying.

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You kissed me slowly outside my house at night. I went back into my room, cheeks boiling, but I began wondering if you were going to get better.

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You passed me a note.

"I'm not brave enough anymore darling. I'm all broken. They've broken me" -Hemingway

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I asked you, "Do you love me?"

You hesitated.

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You stopped answering me. You cut me out. You left me.

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In my dream, I heard you laugh. It was one that I wish was real. You told me you couldn't wait to see me again. I woke up and my pillow was wet with tears. Although you helped me greatly, I was never enough to help you.

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I visited you and brought flowers. Beside the flowers, I left a note.

You once told me that loss is just a way of life, and love could overpower that.

***

"Isn't it pretty to think so" -Hemingway