A wise woman once said, "It's a silly time to learn to swim when you start to drown." I have always kept that quote in the back of my mind. It wasn't until we met that I understood what it meant.
I read about you in the paper today. I'm sorry to hear about her. I'm sorry to hear about you. She was quite a lovely girl, and you were quite a lovely boy. I suppose I should say man and woman now, but I still imagine that gleam of youth in your eyes everytime I think of you. The gleam that spoke of the yearning of new experiences, young love, young naiveness.
When you told me about the engagement, I could see the gleam she put back in your eyes. I was so shocked to see you so happy once again, I had no idea what to say. To this day I'm not sure what I should have said.
I think back to the days. To our days. Our days of happiness and our days of sadness. Then I remember that day. That day where everything became black. Where everything burned. The gleam was no longer there. Nothing was no longer there. The depression swallowed you whole and left not a single scrap behind.
Maybe if I didn't just sit there and watch you fade away. Maybe if I just kept trying to comfort you. Maybe if I just said something that could have helped. I can't help but wonder if I could have saved us. If you could have saved us.
I did not write this to apologize or to even bring up old memories. I gave what I gave. I'm not sorry I met you. I'm not sorry it's over. I'm not sorry there's nothing to save.