Friendship never mattered to me. Regardless of the situations, I was always to be at a loss. It felt like no matter how hard I tried, no matter what I did, things would never work right. She went her own way, away from the emotions and the bloody red heart I offered to her.

It hurt, but what else could I do? When you lay yourself on the line, and place everything that seems right on the winds of emotion, you have insurmountable odds against you. One strong breeze can either uplift you into a cloud of wonder, or whip you down into the depths of lonesome nights and empty coffee cups.

She gave me more than anyone ever has, and we were never even a part of each other. I believed we would finish our days together; we would die old and grey, yet the life left in our bodies preserved us just long enough to get the other a glass of orange juice, or pull the other up from their chair and dance one last time, waltzing to a tune from years past, remembering what we had then and what we have now.

Dreams come and go as we sleep, but losing the dreams that define us as people is one of the hardest things to accept. Every breath I take is a little more meaningless; every scent that rouses me does so a little less. My senses are dulled, my apathy increases, and my outlook on the future becomes more bleak and foreboding.

She. She was all I ever needed. And now she is gone.