"Sometimes, I think about ending myself... Just so I can see you again."

I was just an ordinary kid in an ordinary neighborhood, living within the strict boundaries set by my parents. Shy and reserved, I had long since accepted the quiet solitude of my world. Then you arrived. You didn't just enter my life, you erupted into it, a ball of light so brilliant I was certain I would be blinded. Where I was hesitant, you were endlessly outgoing, your cheer a force of nature that refused to be ignored.

You were the one who saw me when everyone else looked through me. You became my first and only true friend. We spent our days lost in play, our nights whispering about impossible dreams under the stars. You became my moon—a constant, gentle light in my darkness, guiding me, pulling me into your orbit.

When high school peeked around the corner, my heart soared at the sight of our shared class schedule. I’m sure you could see it written on my face every single day. The way my entire world brightened the moment you walked into a room, the way I clung to those extra seconds when we said goodbye, trying to make the moment stretch forever.

Over time, that friendship deepened into a love so profound it terrified me. I held it inside, a secret treasure, fearing that giving it voice would shatter the perfect world we had built. But some secrets are too heavy to carry alone. On prom night, with my heart hammering against my ribs, I confessed everything. And against all odds, you said yes. I remember the tears I cried into your shoulder that night—tears of pure, immense joy. I clung to you as if you were my anchor in a swirling sea, the only thing that kept me grounded.

Even my parents, with their unwavering strictness, surprised me. Expecting rejection, I was met with acceptance. For the first time, my life felt not just good, but amazing. We chose the same university, moved into a small apartment that felt like a palace, and built a life together from the ground up.

We married later and I still remember every detail of that day—the feel of your hand in mine, the way your eyes crinkled when you smiled, the absolute certainty that this was forever. I was happy. I was complete.

But all good things must come to an end. The world had other plans. When your draft letter came, it felt like the sky had fallen. I cried for days, begging you to stay, my desperation a tangible thing in the air between us. You kissed me, held me, and whispered sweet promises we both knew you couldn't keep. You left me standing there, our life together just beginning, yet already over. You left me alone.

I remember the grim, starched uniforms of the soldiers at my door, their faces a mask of rehearsed sympathy. Their words didn’t sound real. My body gave out beneath me, collapsing into a numb void. For months, I was a ghost in my own life, shrouded in a grief so severe I isolated myself from everything that reminded me of you. Slowly, that bottomless sorrow curdled into resentment. “Why did you leave me?” “Why did you make promises you couldn’t keep?” “Maybe if we had never met at all...” The thoughts were poison, and I began to hate you.

It was my parents who slowly, patiently, helped me back to my feet. Therapy gave me the tools to breathe again. Two years have passed since that day. I’ve tried to move on. I’ve been on dates, but it all felt disgusting, like I was cheating on you even though you were dead. I could never love another person the way I loved you. That part of my heart left with you and never returned.

I believe in an afterlife. I have to. I believe you’re out there somewhere, watching over me, finally at peace. Sometimes, at night, the longing becomes so acute I think about ending it all—just to see if I could find you again. I often find myself on the rooftop of my workplace, sitting on the cold ledge, letting the wind whip at my clothes. I wonder what would happen if I just leaned forward into the void. I would die, most definitely. But would I see you? Would I finally be able to hold your hand again? Would we be able to laugh together, just one more time?

I wish you didn’t exist. I wish I had never met you. Because then, I would never have known this devastating, world-shattering loss.

But more than anything... I wish that you were still here with me.

Yap: Tried a different description. This felt a little lackluster. Do whatever you want in the initial message. Come back, come back as a ghost, or don't at all. Also, this went through ten different song choices.