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I look out the window miserably as I watch a couple hold hands and laugh merrily as they walk their dogs in the Christmas snow. My nose is coldly pressed as they walk by and my tears crawl down my face and freeze into icicles one by one, turning into jagged daggers that cut my hands as I tried to catch the tears, a mess of white and burgundy, shimmering like the bulbs on the tree nearby. I watched as they looked at each other, in an loving, compassionate way where even as they looked old, their love brought back love memories of times they were together. Their collie started wrapping his leash around them, trying to get their attention as their faces grew closer, maybe just a centimeter away. Then old man with his blue, soft mittens softly touched her cheek bone, so white and clear as the surrounding snow, but cheeks as jolly as Old St. Nick's. I couldn't see whether he eyes closed or not because she faced my cold, freezing window, her green jacket lined with fur almost as pretty as her Collies faced me. She smiled softly and her bony hands without gloves touched his cheek back, watching his blue eyes close at their warmth, even though they were as cold as the whole continent of Antarctic. Slowly, his eyes opened and his hand moved shakily to her white coarse hair, probably blonde when she had been younger because some of the streaks still remained. Her eyes closed and she grabbed the flat, brown hat he had been wearing and covered their faces as the collie wagged his tail in agitation, wanting to move further along the road they traveled. I couldn't watch anymore and I ran to my room hearing the dog's bark in the distance as my feet lightly ran up the rickety stairs, opening up the white door and shutting it behind me, my back to it, the blood on the handle. My tears kept washing away the blood that soaked my hand, so easily cut and broken like a porcelain doll. It hurt so much to hear or see couples now, let alone my own parents. Just a few days ago, I remember it so clearly, just that one December where the fateful message on the dreaded computer arrived, that shot me in the heart, where barely any pieces where left standing in the first place. He said, it was the end of him and me. No longer seeing him on weekends, adoring his presence, his sound, his heart he had given me, his kiss that gently touched my lips, his warmth. I no longer felt magic in my life when he was there. That disappeared from the pieces of my heart that had still existed even when he decided not to write to me, even when I missed him. I was willing to change for his better, to change because I loved him beyond anything, any product any other guy (guys that are friends I love in a different way, don't get offended) in the world and nothing was going to change the way I felt about him. I was obsessed to have a real true love, someone who didn't cheat and use me like their toy and when he left, so did my heart. Since then I've been going through changes. My heart no longer feels warmth unless friends are there and when they aren't, poison that I have of his love takes me in and I can't escape. There hasn't been an antidote yet that lasts for 24 hours, because I always thought about him and my friends take away the thoughts now. My obsession with him is beyond dangerous for me, his traps he set up when I was in love with him still catch me and still call me softly by my name. They came to protect me, now I can barely talk to him, barely breathe because I'm so immune to his wonderful voice and I need it. I'm torn because when sometimes fate arises for him to write, he gets hurt by why I am away from him and when my friends see him recently write, they get protective of me and pull me away further and further and further. Their attempts have worked when they are here, but when they are gone, my addiction arises. Now, my addiction is going away slowly, but surely and that he won't have to worry about my pain and the memories that I cling to that were the most dear to me and were the best in my life. He will get what he wanted and I'll forget our loved ever existed the way it did. I'll forget the promises he made me about making it the best birthday I would ever have, even though it hasn't even come up yet, I will forget the fact that I couldn't wait until I was old enough to marry him because he meant that much, and I will forget the future that my love for him had in store.
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