You know as well as I do, that when all things come to an end, all truth surfaces, like the last bubbles of air floating atop the waves. And so they have. You know all the secrets I had once kept from you, yet I will never know all the secrets you had kept from me. You know how much I loved you and how much you impacted my life, yet I could never be too sure about your feelings.

But this isn't the reason for my writing you. There are no guilt trips involved.

I write this, reminiscing and sincerely thinking that you'll come across the chance to read it someday, holding it between two human hands, reading it line for line with those green eyes which were all too quixotic. Contemplating these very words with your eyebrows furrowed in concentration. I knew you so well that your emotions were easily mine; even now I can see you clearly. Every intangible feeling, I can see it upon your face.

Perhaps I am truly delusional, as I have tried time and time again to convince myself as well as others, because I cry for hours on end, believing you'll come back to me. I figure that God's working it out, somehow, and all the promises we made to each other so long ago would still be intact...that all the plans we made and all the things we aspired to would still be possible. But then again, who am I fooling?

I just want you back.

And I write this now, knowing that throughout our ten-year friendship I had tried my best to conceal the fact you were the only one I could ever love. But I'm only human, and all you are is soul. And you can distinguish the dark from the light and you know what's been hiding all this time. But now that you know my feelings for sure, there's nothing here. Nothing but white space and an empty, meaningless void where my heart once was. And nothing I can do to bring you back.

The other night, Erik turned twenty. I called him long distance, all the way to Toronto. Your brother understands my pain, as I understand his. The night was spent in relentless tears, though it should have been a moment of joy. As I am nothing without you, he is just the same. We both lost you, the one person that brought us to life. And in a sense, it almost feels like I'm the one being buried alive. Buried in my seclusion, my fears, my depression, my tears, in my haunting memories of the past and the painful imaginary existence of you.

Jason, I should have been there to quiet the storm. I should have been the one holding your hand when the water took over. I should have been the one to go. What good is a best friend who is absent in the ultimate time of need? None. And you were always the beautiful soul, while I was the wrong and misled. But God stole you from me for his own reasons which will take eternities to comprehend. I do not shun him though; I know well enough that you're in good hands and I know you're the farthest thing from suffering.

I wish that I could say the same for myself, though.

I love you. If there are only three words you understand, I pray it be those. Because it's true. I love you, and though I know you want me to be happy, I'm still crying every night of my life.

Wait for me, okay? I'll get there when I do.