Dear John

Dear John,

I chose you. You didn't know it, but the first time you walked through that door and into my life, it had to be you. You were in my biology class (Why is it always biology class?) and I couldn't help but check every so often to see what you were doing. The first time I saw you everyday I would jump ever so slightly and my heart would pumped a little faster. It's crazy, but it was like my body was announcing your arrival.

I prayed that those things I was feeling didn't show on my face. It seemed dumb, and confusing, because I didn't even know you, but I couldn't help the way I felt. I'd try to concentrate on the lessons, but caught myself think of you instead.

You were always so black and white about things. I thought (if I ever got the chance) that I could show you to look at things differently; to make you question yourself once and a while.

Then, luck of the draw, Ms. Chetwin made us lab partners, remember? I laugh now, at how afraid I was the first time you sat beside me. I was to shy to speak to you, so instead I decided to stare at a spot on the chalkboard in front of me, feeling dumb, but safe for harm. (I was always afraid of getting hurt)

Then came class experiments. (Which meant I actually had to talk to you) I stuck to the basics, only talking about the work at hand when I needed to. But you were patient. Very patient. You began to break down the walls I had worked so hard to build. I was starting to let myself go and open up to you. Soon our conversations ranged from the weather and up coming projects, to your abusive father and my alcoholic mother as you walked me home each day. I was always happy when you were around me; you made everything better.

But then… things changed. You disappeared without any signs as to where you had gone. You were gone for a month and I didn't know what happened. You didn't call; you didn't even text. It was as if you never existed. I started dreaming up these long, extravagant stories, about you being kidnapped by some nutcase and being buried alive in the cemetery by my house. (I have a very good imagination) Then my worry turned into anger, thinking you didn't even have the decency to say goodbye.

I knew the teachers knew where you were, but they weren't talking. So one day, I got up the nerve to search for you. I knew what street you lived on, so I started there. I knocked door after door asking "Excuse me, but does a 'John' live here by any chance?"

I must have knocked on twenty houses before I found you. Your mother answered the door, looking tired and withered. But she showed me to your room.

When I opened the door and saw you there, sitting on your bed, watching TV, I felt relieved, but confused. You said something like "Not now, mom" but didn't look up. You were dressed in playboy pajama bottoms, and a tight white tee, wearing two different socks and your hair was mussed.

The whole situation began to make feel uncomfortable. I decided it was enough to know you were still alive, but before I could sneak away, you looked up; your eyes blazing into mine. My heart jumped in my chest and I panicked; quickly shutting the door behind me, and rushing to the front door.

But before I could reach it, I heard you call my name, which made me stop. I heard my name again, and this time it was followed by an order to "come back". So I did, slowly but surely. We went into your room and shut the door behind us.

I began blathering about this and that, things like apologies and why I came, things that were already known, and didn't need to be said. So you shook your head and cupped my face in your hands, shushing me.

All was silent for a long moment. And after the silence passed, you lowered your face to mine into a soft, delicate kiss. Then I was not afraid… of anything. We both laid on your bed a while, as I tried to convince you to tell me why you had disappeared. "I just went to the hospital for some breathing tests" was all I could get out of you. And it was obvious that wasn't true.

After a while I stormed out of the house, angry as hell. But the next day, you phoned me up and told me the truth. Now I wish you hadn't. I wish you had told me all the lies in the world; anything but the truth. But once you told me, the words seemed to ring in my ears over and over again. Cancer… Cancer… Cancer. Like a heartbeat.

I hate you for leaving me alone in this world. But you know I'll always love you, regardless of the time that passes. I'll keep you memory in my heart always, and remember you at your best. Because it was you I chose to be mine forever. And forever's a long time, so one day I'll see you again. I better.

Forever yours,

Elizabeth

P.s. I love you.