You know how sometimes, someone, someone you knew, dies? And you say "sorry for your loss" or some crap like that.

Someone I knew died.

And though I can't think of any category to place him in, "someone" feels like such an ugly word to use in this context. He's not "someone." He's me..he's my soul. He's the person I loved most in this world. He's the one, the someone, I spent countless hours thinking after, hoping for, loving.

And from one second to the next, he's gone. Frightening, sometimes, how incomprehensible your own reality can be to you. I read the "died" in the message, the one telling me he was dead and thought through my tears,"what does died mean?" I almost picked up my phone and tried to call him. But he won't answer anymore. He's not there to answer anymore.

Listen to me... Those cheesy little reminders to embrace life right now? To say what you're not saying, to love who you're not loving? THAT'S IT. Loving people is the only thing that's real.
 I wake up every morning now, and realize again (like I did the morning before, and will the morning after)..." he's still gone." "This is still real." And I wish more than anything I could go back and do more. I don't even know what. Just...notice more. Say more. Call more, even though I may have seemed like a stalker.
Those moments I spent laughing with him, kissing him, teasing him, loving him ...are precious to me. Precious.

I just realized that the last time I saw him and hugged him and whispered "I love you" to him, I had no idea it would be my last time to ever feel his arms around me and see his bright eyes staring back at me. But it was. It was my last time.