Forever is as Long as Never

You're worried. Payton is someone who says exactly what they mean. If they're sad, they'll say so. If they're happy, they'll say so.

If they were thinking of committing suicide, they'd say so. They wouldn't just text

Payton

I'm sorry.

10:30 p.m.

Their location is on. If they didn't want you to go to them, they wouldn't have it on. But then again, if they wanted you to go, they'd say so.

You're so worried. And, you have a right to be, you find out. You only find this out when you're confronted with a corpse of what used to be your--your what? Best friend? Lover? Sure, you assumed you two were dating, how could you not? You don't just kiss your best friend, tell them that you couldn't survive without them, and say you're still best friends. But, of course, this isn't the time. This isn't the time to be thinking about whether you are dating or not when . . . when there is no one left to date.

The moment you saw them, you knew they weren't alive. Payton always had a sort of lifeless look to them, but this expression was true.

Payton was dead. A bottle of pills in their lifeless hand.

You . . . you couldn't bear it. It didn't matter whether you are dating them or not--were dating them, you correct internally--because they're dead.

A piece of paper catches your eye. Numbly, you pick it up. It has your name on the outside. You open it.

"we both knew this would happen," it starts.

"at least, I knew. i told you this would happen. but no. you said i had a future. whenever you said that your eyes would get all misty. did you know that? i couldn't read your mind, but i always thought that when that happened, you were imagining my future for me. what kind of future were you imagining? was it the american dream? white picket fence, two to three children? someone to kiss goodbye as they went to work? or maybe you were thinking differently. maybe you imagined me in an apartment, some kind job that i didn't hate, but didn't love. maybe you were imagining us. did you ever imagine that? i know you could never love me the way i love you. never. but, it was nice for me to imagine that you did. where was i going with this? that i'm sorry? i am. sorry. i'm sorry for so many things. remember when we first met? you probably don't, but i do. we were in math class, god, i can't even remember what math class. it could've been calculus or something.

"we were in math class, and we were assigned to be partners. you know, you could always tell when i was feeling like shit. i don't fucking know how. how can you always tell? how? you asked me if i was okay. i'm sorry. i was so mean to you. i'm sorry that i said it was none of your business. and i know i've done so much more to you that was rude, that was mean.

"i'm sorry. i'm running out of space now, but i want to say something else.

"i love you. so much. and when a heart (my heart) is fragile, it can't hold much of anything. not even love.

"i'm sorry."

You weren't ready for it to end. You weren't ready for the letter to end, and you weren't ready for Payton to end. Why does everything have to end?

Why was the word forever ever made, when nothing is forever? Why couldn't you, and Payton be forever?

"I'm sorry." When did you start crying? You can't remember when you started crying, but you only know that you're crying now. You know that you're hugging Payton's body--dead body. You know that those sirens you're hearing aren't just passing by, but coming closer.

You know that this is your end to.

Payton takes a lot of meds, so you know that the bottle in her hand isn't the only bottle she has.

You kiss them.

"I'm sorry," you whisper in their ear.

Goodbye.