145 days. 145 since my world ended. 145 days since Yoseob… -God, I can’t even say it- killed himself. It’s his birthday today, January 5^th, and here I am sitting by his grave looking at pictures of the two of us.

            I faintly smiled at a certain picture; it was one of my favorite memories. The picture showed Yoseob and I at the beach smiling widely at the camera holding two ice creams. Yoseob had his arm slung over my shoulder and my arm was wrapped around his waist. I love this picture so much because just seconds after the picture was taken we shoved our ice creams onto each other’s faces, causing an all out ice cream war.

            Just like that, all of my self control I had vanished. I wrapped my arms around my legs and sobbed. He’s gone. My best friend, my favorite person in the world, is gone.

             I don’t want to fall to pieces. The thing I ache for right now isn’t even to talk to him because I don’t want to talk about it. I just want to sit and stare at him, cry in front of him, have his arms around me one last time. I miss him so much. Yoseob always knew what to say to make everything okay. He was a very sensitive person but that just made him a better person to talk to. With one smile he could melt my whole bad day away and with his hugs he could make the world disappear. He was one of the purest and kindest people I’ve ever met.

            But he’s gone…six feet underground.