I Love You More

A Story by Diana Dirvariu

My world became very silent a few years back, when my true love left towards the sea. I was buried deep in a pile of heartache and tears. Confusion and loneliness overwhelming my every thought. And rage. I was very angry. I am. Before anything else came love. To me, that was all that mattered and all that would ever count for anything more than a five cent lollipop. Because without love, I was not whole. All the money in the world could buy me anything I wanted. Everything except what I desired most.

On the hundredth day of the year, he returned. While stubble grew where fair skin used to reside, and wrinkles crept up on his forehead when he frowned, his eyes were still his own. And his eyes were what I breathed for. We were glued to the bone for the three weeks he stayed with me, and on the one hundred twenty first day, he left again. And although he shouldn't have, for I will always remember the broken look in his eyes, he looked back.

I was torn through to my core. Something was literally missing and it ate at me constantly. I couldn't eat, couldn't sleep. Couldn't function. I resorted to alcohol and pills. Pink ones, blue ones. Green ones with white dots to be mistaken for stars. My silent question was, and remains unanswered. How can one go on without the only thing they require to keep going forward? If the oxygen you need to live is not there, how will you survive? You cannot.

This time, he is gone for two years. To most, this seems like a very long time. They are right. A lifetime it seems, and I may not make it. On the fifth day, I begin to go silent. My friends begin to notice my lack of conversation, as do I. On the seventh day, I can no longer force myself to form even the simplest of phrases. It appears words have lost their touch, and in my mind, there is no use for them when they don’t bring back the only person I have ever prayed for. Ten days pass, and ten more. I have forgotten how to open my mouth, except for when I must eat at least one thing, otherwise I will collapse. And as long as he lives, I must as well.

Forty five days later, I receive a letter. He is dead and not returning, it says.

How can this be? How can the world be so cruel to someone who never asked for more than that one something. How?

I lift it and shove the barrel in my mouth. The next part is effortless. Almost easy.

I refuse to be forever apart.