We Said Long Live.

I rolled over in bed and watched the sunrise peeking through the slats in the blinds. Spring and its new beginnings were creeping in, and this morning I was sure of two things: a high of 75 and I wanted to talk to you.

I wished on what remaining dust of birthday magic I could find to bring you back to me. Remember the autumn night we watched the beginning of my 24th year disappear into the Gulf Shores sunset? We couldn't tell the reflection of the stars on the water from the dock lights, and I thought as the waves crashed to the shore that nothing in life feels better than this. There's nothing like feeling small on the sand by the ocean with your best friend. You make my world make sense.

We stopped by a gas station on our way back from the beach,two girls roaming the aisles and giggling because you've known for years that I'm quirky and indecisive. But the clerk didn't, and we laughed harder when she thought me being myself was actually just some girl that got high.

You always knew me better than that.

We left the beach behind us on one of our typical drives where I was just tired enough to act cranky, and you didn't ask to change the music because you were familiar with this mood. Checking the rearview mirror, I saw a name written in the dust on my windshield, and we remembered back to 4 years ago when I was scared and you believed me.

I wanted to do the same for you.

But now I want to fight. I want to fight with you and for you and because of you. I want you to scream at me and I want to cry and feel broken and I want us to mend.

I want you to know that I'm sorry. That I let you down and I that I know this isn't something I can fix. I'm mad and hurt and a cluster of emotions that won't do me any good.

As the sun shone through the blinds this morning, I understood this is another way hearts can hurt. So I'll surround myself with music and beautiful people until I see you again,

and I will see you again.

After all, we said Long Live.