the epilogue:


These are my diaries, my way of getting over the distance that had started as an slow emotional separation to a full blown physical one between you and I. I vowed that I would never forget you, and I don't know about you, but I intend on keeping that promise. Although this is probably not a good idea (not to mention it seems obsessive and bizarre), I am going to write until I am all written out. Maybe I will show it to you one day when I am ready. Maybe.


This is our story.
July 10

i love(d) him…

i remember when the cutting started; it wasn’t over you, though, at least not yet. i’d lost my friend jee due to sheer stupidity and misunderstandings, but you were in the process of losing your friend, too. we would soon need one anothers’ company in order to create the music that served as a distraction from the pain we were inflicting upon our arms and legs in order to avoid the pain in our hearts.

you’ve never really been one to call me at all, especially not out of the blue. then you called me twice in a row - frantic, panicked, afraid. you tried to turn to me to stop yourself from hurting again. i was playing guitar at a dorm show. i checked my phone, saw you rang. i called back, but you had nothing to say. you asked me to play the guitar and sing for you. was that the first time you heard my voice? i could hear your words echo in the walls around me when you said them; “your voice is so beautiful” and then “let’s make music.”

let’s make music.