I have the saddest eyes in the first picture taken of me after our relationship. I’m with my friends, trying to have fun. They forced me out after I had put myself on house-arrest, eating every imaginable sweet we owned. I think I gained a total of 5 pounds that week. Shelly is next to me in the picture and Megan is on the other side, along with 3 other of my close friends that never knew you. They all have huge smiles, careless about the world around them. I remember we set the camera on a timer but when the time came my lips felt numb. I used to be able to smile so easily, but it took effort now; one of the side effects of a break-up. It reminds me of a porcelain doll I had when I was little named Fiona. My mother got her for me on my 5^th birthday and she had the most beautiful coral eyes and a full-lipped smile. Her hair was curled and her dress was lilac with a floral print. I told her all my secrets and we were inseparable. I was playing with her outside in the tree house when she fell and smashed into pieces. Half her face was broken off, and I spent an hour trying to put her back together, but it was no use. Just like Fiona, I had tried to fix myself, but it was too late; the damage had been done.

Remember the first time you took me to the movies? You picked a scary movie with some cliché name and a poster creepy enough to intrigue the sort of person that desired the genre. I was terrified, but too shy to tell you because you were so excited to see it. I pretended to be thrilled as well, but when the movie started, I shrunk lower and lower in my seat. The lights from the screen flickered between my fingers that covered my eyes. I was so ashamed, but you took my hand away from my face and held it tightly and squeezed it every time I had to stifle a scream. I ended up eating all the popcorn because I didn’t eat enough at dinner because I was being self-conscious. I laugh now, thinking about politely turning away the dessert menu when my mouth was still watering. We joked about this night later; it was one of our favorite stories to tell. When people would stop us and tell us how cute a couple we were, we’d tell them the story and they’d smile and laugh, recalling their own sweetheart moments. That’s what we were, sweethearts.

The day your grandpa died was tragic. But you did not cry. You spent so many days with him, hunting, playing cards, hearing stories of his past that made you marvel and encouraged your lust for all history. Whenever I visited he talked about his memories with your grandma; the moments they shared as young loves and smiled upon us like we were a mirror image of his past. I was so angry with you. You sat on my sofa, staring into nothingness, pretending not to care. We sat in uncomfortable silence before I couldn‘t take it anymore. “Cry!” I finally yelled, tears streaming down my face as I sat before you, trying to find your eyes with my own. “I don’t cry,” you responded, sullenly. “Show something! You loved him! Don’t you care at all?” I was exasperated, recalling how fondly you talked about him the days we just sat beneath trees and spoke to each other about life. “Of course I care!” You shouted back furiously, “Just because I’m not bawling my eyes out doesn’t mean I don’t care!” I don’t know what I was trying to prove. Maybe it was a test to see if you had any other emotion besides love-struck. At the funeral you didn’t shed a single tear as I sat there, using toilet paper for a make-shift tissue. It wasn’t until later when you had gone missing and I found you behind the church that I saw the real you. You had your knees pulled up to your chest and your head resting upon your knees, and you were crying really hard. I ran to you and embraced you so tight, resting my head on top of yours, and running my fingers through your hair soothingly. “Why did you try to hide it?” I whispered into your thick hair, and you relaxed and looked up and me. “Please, stay with me,” you almost begged. “Always,” I replied, and it was in that moment that I realized that you needed me. You would never say it out loud, but I didn’t need words to tell me that I was meant to be in your life, and you in mine.