I need to jump out of a plane, something, anything to gain control of the uncontrollable.

This weekend has been perfect. 36 hours of you. Last night you said you didn't want things to change. If wishing could alter time, we would have altered it long ago, remaining as we are now, in love, in peace, in comfort, in each other's care. I was serious when I said that I wanted to marry you, as serious as a heart can get. I was serious when I said that I love you, forever. Because I have, I do, and I will. Sleeping in your arms is the best thing life has given me. Feeling the soothing rise and fall of you chest as you breathe, listening to your heart, smelling your intoxicating sweet breathe, all things I'm rushing to memorize. Life has taken on a strange preparation. My only want is to burn everything about you, us, into my memory. Every thought, sound, taste, touch, and smell. Everything you. Everything I can take with me when you're gone.

I know the time is drawing closer, and I still can't imagine how I am going to make it. How will I get up the day after and care that the rest of the world keeps spinning when mine has been thrown off of its axis? It's as if my future is about to hit a wall, and what lies beyond it is completely inconsequential. Life becomes colorless after that day, awash in gray.

"Sometimes ...you need to feel hopeless before you feel a shred of optimism."

I bloody hate myself right now. I'm in the mood to cut, bleed, to watch the crimson flow from my veins. Our time is short and my mouth did nothing but damage you today. I am so filled with hatred I could scream but instead I'll scratch, and create a bruise big enough and black enough to show my penance. I pray you can forgive me love, for my stupidity, my insults, my inability to be a decent human...I should be hurt because I hurt you.

You're the one who brought it up today. There were no "what if"s just a bunch of "when"s.

I spent half the night and almost the entire day looking at Gibson Les Paul guitars today. It's the one thing I want to give you, the last thing I'll probably ever give you. I've been racking my brain trying to come up with the perfect gift, the perfect something that would say it all. I think the Les Paul is it. Why? Because they're made of mahogony,the same color as your beautiful eyes. Because they sing beautifully. Because I love listening to you play. Because it's a classic. And because it's timeless. And I desparately want us to be timeless.

When you play it, I hope you think of me.

I've done so good keeping it at bay but the wave just came crashing down. I hate being slammed back down to the bottom of the mire. My heart feels like it's going to explode. I want to vomit. I want to rush to you and tell you how much this hurts, to watch the sand fall through the hourglass and to know there's nothing I can do about it. I want to tell you, but I can't, and one day soon I won't be able to.

More than anything I wish I could go with you.