It's 2am and I can't sleep. So, I decide to write. I can't think of anything to write, so I draw. The image of your beautiful face is imprinted in my head. The way you laugh, the way your eyes twinkle when you smile. The way I feel, when I know I am the cause of your happiness. I curl up in my blanket, and look to my right. Do you remember when I would always come over on the weekends to sleep over when we were kids? You were the light in my darkness, my safest and closest escpe route. Do you also remember the night my mom came home drunk and beat me? I think we were 12 at the time... I had cried in your arms for the longest time that I ended up losing my voice. Or that one time when a group of girls ganged up on me in bathroom. I got hit so many times and I think I smelled like mop water for 2 days straight. After the whole ordeal, you asked me if I was in pain, with genuine care in your eyes. Needless to say, I broke down. You were the first person to ever ask me that, Irene. 

At 3am I still can't sleep, so I get up and walk to balcony door. I always liked it outside at night, it was peaceful, and always there. As I sit on the balcony, I think of all the trips we went on together. Our trip to Thailand was probably the most memorable out of all of them. I knew how reluctant you were about going to the zoo to see--and feed--the animals. I can feel goosebumps starting to rise on my skin as I crack another smile. With the wind blowing against my face, it's somewhat enjoyable. It's just like the feeling of the wind whipping across your face when we went ziplining over the forest. I put my hair up in a bun, allowing the wind the blow past my neck as well, just for the sake of nostalgia. Now I smile, thinking of your hair in a bun. You looked so adorable. I chuckle, and out my feet up on the coffee table you helped me move outside. When I close my eyes and think of the warmth of your hands, I smile, and slowly fall back and fall asleep.

I sit up abruptly, realzing that I'd falling asleep outside. Even though it's nearly summer, it's so cold that I'm shivering. I turn my body to the left of me and look inside, craning my neck to peer at the clock. It reads 7:04, and I decide to lay back down and admire the trees and the calming sound of rustling trees and chirping birds. I strain my head to look back at the clock again. As I sigh, I decide to get up and sluggishly walk to the door. I wince as my foot first touches the floor. It's cold and numbing, just like how I'll be after you leave, I think to myself. It feels so dense and suffocating after not being in my little, homey apartment. I turn to my right and look at the little picture frame we hung up of us. I then turn my head and walk down my dreary hallyway and stumble into my bathroom. Looking up to meet my reflections gaze, I note how trashed I really looked: dark bags under my eyes that haven't left in ages, unhappy eyes, the corners of my lips look like they're stuck in a frown, and my face is super puffy in general. I probably started crying in my sleep because I've been trying to hold back my tears the entire time. I turn on the cold water and cup my hands under it, collecting some before splashing it onto my face. Everything painfully reminds me of you, even the very furniature of this apartment. You know, I'd like to think that I'll be fine on my own and that after this day, and that I can get closure from you. But as much as I want to say that, I know it's something I have to find on my own. I walk out of the bathroom into my room and leap onto my bed, sprawling out onto it. The blankets were cooling and fluffy, but also soft. Just like Irene. Not only that, but they were also purple, her favorite color. I smirked with my eyes closed.