I still talk to you sometimes. On nights when the world is a little too quiet, I talk to fill the gap between us. For a moment, if I close my eyes and let myself dream, you never left.

I scream at the sky. I scream like the stars were the ones that left me on my knees. I scream, but I still want to pretend nothing happened.

My friends will ask about you, and I will be intentionally vague.

I’m getting so tired, even for a phoenix. I always have to rise again from the ashes. I always have to fix everything. 

I just want to pretend it isn’t real.

I go on a walk every day to visit the trees. The trees, of course, being the cluster of trees a while from my house. A while from any house, or people, for that matter. I don’t know how far away, exactly. It’s like I’m in a trance whenever I visit. 

I talk to the trees. I tell them everything. My tears water their twisting roots, and my words are entangled in their branches. My secrets are held in every leaf. Sometimes they fall off, forgotten. 

I lay down in the meadow, just staring at the empty sky. It’s a new moon, and extra dark. 

The wind nips at my exposed skin and the cold claws at my throat. Somehow, despite the poking grass and chilling air, I’ve never felt more at home. 

I close my eyes again. And I just pretend it isn’t real. I’ll pretend you’re sitting next to me and asking if I want to stay a little longer. 

And I almost do. 

But when I open my eyes, you’re not real. And I know it’s for the better. 

And I know I need to move on. And let go. 

To do that, I guess I need to realize it’s real. And you’re gone.

Every time I replay it in my head, it’s like a bad movie. I can’t stop myself from getting upset. Frustrated. Angry, even. 

It’s not your fault. But you’re still gone. And I’m all alone, and I’m scared. 

The trees never judge me. Maybe that’s why I’m here all the time. I don’t need pity, I just need someone to be there. Trees never complain, too. 

They just listen, silently. They feel my anger. I think everything can. 

I think it’s so hard to be angry in a place like this. Even at you. 

Everything is just so beautiful. And peaceful. Nothing is perfect, obviously, but it’s close. And there's flowers!

But then I see the flowers you said were your favorite. And it all comes back. 

But I thought I was doing better. It’s been a while since I’ve slipped and said something like your name. 

I’m just so hopeless. Do I even want to feel better? I think I just want to feel your hug again. 

But wanting to feel better is the first step in feeling better. 

I don’t know how to give up waiting, though. I just want to sit down and wait for you forever.

But I guess that’s not healthy. I need to let go at some point. 

I look up at the sky again. I wonder if you’re up there, among the stars. Maybe you can see me. 

I wish you could talk to me.

It’s been so long. 

Sometimes I wonder if one thing was different, would everything be different?

I play back that day in my head often. I wonder if something I did influenced what happened. Should I have lowered my voice? If you weren’t so mad, would you have stormed off still? Maybe if we talked it out, we would have both been here in this stupid meadow, talking to the trees. 

But I didn’t lower my voice. And you still left. And I don’t know how to be okay when the last thing I ever said to you was, “Maybe you should go.”

Because it wasn’t true. You shouldn’t have gone. You should’ve stayed. That’s all you had to do. 

I wonder if you were scared. Cold, maybe. I’m cold and alone right now. I can’t imagine dying like this. 

Maybe I’m not alone. The meadow is more alive than I thought. Crickets chirp and birds fly overhead, temporarily blocking the sky. 

I don’t know how to be okay with the fact it ended on bad terms. You left thinking I hate you. I wish I could go back and remember what we were even fighting for. I miss you too much to even be mad anymore. 

The trees forgive me. They cannot speak, but they offer me the comfort I need. I don’t know what it says about me that trees are my best friends right now.

I laugh out loud. 

It feels weird to laugh at a time like this. It doesn’t take away the pain, but maybe it’s a little more bearable. 

I begged until my knees were raw and bleeding for you to just come back to life, but the trees were the only thing that stayed with me. 

I’m alone at the edge of the world, but the world is alive around me. And that is enough.