Fall.

Dear Diary,
Today I was strolling down the market, on my own, with my iPod plugged in and Kanye West blaring at the highest possible volume when my phone buzzed. I looked down at it, unlocked the keypad without even looking at it and read what was the most meaningful text message I had gotten in the longest time.
No. It wasn't one of those spirit guides I have, telling me how to deal with seemingly impossible situations. It was someone else. Let's just call that person Rye. (How I love that name.) So Rye wrote to me about being a pain in the wrong place and how he would have to deal with it in the most merciless way if I didn't mend my ways soon. I read it at least three times before I could make sense of it. And then it hit me, I couldn't mend my ways anymore than I already have. I thought being 'friends' was all about loving each other for who they are and not who they want you to be. If the love is strong enough then you will bring about the change without so much as batting an eyelid.

I also had a sort of awakening. I realized, that when you are at your miserable best, everyone around you seems to be the happiest. I saw little girls holding their mother's hands and throwing a temper tantrum for some brand new bedazzled bag. Or young boys and girls, all smitten in love clutching each others hand as if just to prove that they were with each other. Old wrinkled couples squinting through glass windows looking at stuff to buy for their grandchildren, perhaps. I was so jealous.

I went and bought myself, a pack of cigarettes and lit the first. I inhaled the warm smoke and closed my eyes to wait for it to make me a little light headed. It worked, but only because I made myself believe it would. I took three more rounds of the market and finally decided to head home. In my mind, Rye's text still haunted me. But somewhere along the way, it gave me a certain amount of closure. No longer will I talk to an imaginary Rye when I'm lying in bed. No longer will I jump at the sound of my phone ringing. No longer will I keep typing in his name on Facebook to keep up with his status'. No longer will I look forward to anything. My mother says, that part of loving is letting go, (very cliche, I know.) and maybe it is time I let Rye go. For his own good. Because I love him so. But you know what holds me down to the ground is knowing that there can be no other person in this whole entire universe who could love him like I do. It's just that impossible.
So here's to you, Rye. A long prayer and a silent tear. I have realized that my dream and wish were both the exact same thing and thus, this chaos and misery were inevitable. Perhaps, Love is the only thing I have. (Excuse the plagiarism.)

My angel.