Why start the story off happy when it ends with depression and death? So I give you my ending first. My story ends here, at his grave, where I stand crying out for his presences. This is where my heart will stay, underground with the remains of the one I love. I felt as if I was the dead one and not him; that I’m the one buried under the cold earth’s surface and not him. I felt as if I had nothing else left in me, like his death is slowly killing me. I was going insane thinking that I could hear the sound of his dead heart beating. Lately I believe I see him standing around with his beautiful brown eyes on me as if he’s watching me. I would find myself hearing his sweet angel like voice in my ear whispering his charming words. This was all in my head. I know it’s fake, that he’s not really here but sometimes these illusions comforts me as I live my miserable life while he’s underground breathless. I couldn’t really seem to handle much in my life anymore since his absences, but I promised him to live this life with or without him. I sat there in front of his grave stone with tears rolling down from my green eyes. I sat there in deep pain like I have been feeling for weeks now. I haven’t eaten in days almost a week now. I haven’t slept since the night of his death and I’m not much into talking now.