─ 💌 well this kinda fucking hits me. well, it did happen. i wish i was good for them. but it broke me. to know that i'll never have it again. i don't know what happened. i just want it back tbh. but anyways, thanks for all the support and i've recently met some really nice people who follow me and i've started to talk more with. this people know who they are thanks for being my friend and being in my life i love you guys. and to the people who have always been here i love you guys a lot too. man i don't know what i would do without you guys. thanks for a great fan base. take care and be safe
He wasn’t a writer. He’d never written in a journal — he’d even been the stereotypical jock that paid someone else to write his English papers. But she was. She had had a way with words like no other he’d ever come across. But one day, her words ceased, along with her presence in this world. He didn’t understand it. He never would.
The day she left, he began to write. ‘Her name was Abigail, but everyone called her Abby,’ he wrote. 'She was beautiful in a way that you could see kindness dancing behind her blue eyes before you noticed anything else. She didn’t demand attention, she remained silent and waited until it was her turn to receive it. Although, it never took long, because once anyone saw the grace and sweetness she carried, they couldn’t help but want to be around her. And I think that’s what I’ll remember about her most - her ability to draw people near, just because of her personality.
I don’t think a day will go by when I don’t think of her. I miss hearing her response of, 'What-y?’ every time someone called her name. I miss her terrible taste in music. I miss her embrace. I just miss..her.
So today, I asked God why bad things happen to good people. Abby would have rolled her eyes at me for that. She would have sighed and said, 'That only happened once, and He asked for it.’ She would have reminded me that God isn’t fair, He is just.
So here I sit, in my dead girlfriend’s bedroom, and I weep. She was special, I always knew she was. She was so incredibly special that God called her home at 19 years old; He just couldn’t be without her any longer.’