That overwhelming aura that surrounds you when you just feel like crying.
It’s like something cultivates in your head that makes you want to jerk your tears out. Let it be memories, regrets, things, people, and pets you may have lost, they pop up suddenly just to increase the chances of that tear gliding on your cheek.
I’m having one of those moments right now. I hate that it comes out of nowhere. That there’s no warning and that it just hits you whenever. Usually when everyone’s asleep or you’re alone. Music is supposed to help you, but it suddenly turns its back on you and gives you more of a reason to cry.

I don’t know about you, but I’ll be as personal as I can be in this blog, since there is no mention of my sex, age, and general identity.
But what issue I’ve been touching on a lot is a person whom I’ve lost, whom I’ve dearly loved and who cannot be forgotten. Someone who have influenced me so much in life, done so many things with and as cliche as it sounds, made me the person who I am today.
I shall call this person “y”.
Y was born in Vietnam. Grew up in Hanoi with parents from Ho Chi Minh City. Y really liked that country. Always busy, always traveling, always working, y finally stopped in the state I was in. Luckily, I started school the same way y did. So we became friends, as early as x year students. From then, it was a game of who could be nicer to the other, always trying to one up each other, may it be spending money or simple hugs, everything was a challenge. It went from simply buying milk for each other to bigger, more meaningful things. Pencils, scents, accessories, clothing, stuffed animals, roses, shoes, plane tickets, smiles. No matter what the cost, may it be a cent to a grand, Y would always treat it as the same magnitude as if it were something amazing. Fast forward a few years later, twelve year students. It was inevitable for us to be together. We shared our smiles, our kisses, our notes, our phone calls, our embraces, but most of all, our love. Never did we argue. Never did we quarrel. We were kids, but that does not mean we acted like it. I guess the closes thing we could have called a fight was yelling at each other on Christmas time. Arguing what to get each other, regardless of the price.

“You can’t buy happiness, so it doesn’t matter what you get me, just don’t waste your money!” “But I know you’ve wanted this for so long, as you said, regardless of the price, I’m still getting it for you!” “No!” “Yes.”

Another year passed, it is now 2009, and I didn’t know it would have been the last year I spent with Y. By then our love was still strong! I guess you could say we were stuck on the puppy love phase for a good couple of years, but would you really call that puppy love? Anyway, Month after month, ignorant and clueless of what’s about to come, I have only realized how much I had loved y. Going to the same college, going to live in the same house, going to have a future together, there was nothing that was stopping that.

It was random. I was preparing for someone’s birthday party. I received a call from Y’s best friend, saying Y had been sent to the hospital. Impossible! Y was just on the way here from the market with Y’s mom along with the party favors.
I called y’s mom.
She said the same thing.
I held a conversation for approximately ten minutes before I actually started believing them.
I went to the hospital, hoping to support and care for Y, but by then y was gone.
It’s a grim feeling walking up to a lifeless body, hoping for it to respond. Nothing out of the movies, no bloody mess, no syringes or bandages, just a blanket, and a lifeless body. I had just lost someone I thought I was going to spend my life with.
They were taken away without my knowledge. Apparently, a drunk driver had hit the car head of from the passenger side and the shock threw the neck too fast.
The driver had also died, but as cold as it sounds, the more important person that was lost was Y.

It’s not the money or the time spent that matters when you lose someone. It’s that someone that really matters. It’s that someone that makes you smile when you feel like shit. It’s that same someone that picks you up when you need a hand. It’s that someone who stays up, sneaks out, and have long walks with you so you can clear your mind that matters the most. It’s that someone you are proud of. That you can pridefully say “Mine.”

I wish no one experiences this. No one deserves to have something so great taken away from them.
Because now I visit a grave every birthday. Every day that y departed. Every fucking moment spent is thinking about y. About what would have happened if nothing like that happened. Worst of all, nothing can be done about it.