I hope this is not the end. I really hope it’s not.
But if it is, this is how I want you to remember me:
I want you to remember me lying next to you, skin to skin, listening to the sound of your heartbeat and embracing every inch of you. Remember me opening up to you more than anyone else before, no matter how terrifying it was. Remember me wanting to know every single thing about you. Remember me laughing at your jokes, even the stupid ones. Remember me when I was an absolute mess for no reason because I couldn’t control my anxiety and in tears because one time I made you upset with me and I was so sad you might not ever forgive me. Remember me brave, the times you held my hand when I was battling through my mental health and didn’t think I was going to get through it; remember me scared and gentle and delicate and breakable— only for you though, only for you.
Remember me happy, and all the silly things I would do just to get you to smile. Remember how much I love skittles. Remember the time we slept in a blanket fort for weeks. Remember me trying to learn Italian and how funny you thought it was, but how you couldn’t stop smiling with your mouth and eyes. Remember the way I was too stubborn to talk to you when you knew something was on my mind and how absolutely insane it drove the both of us. Remember how we met, and all the firsts and how they were so pleasing we went back for seconds and thirds and fourths. Remember all the plans, all the dreams, and all the goals we both talked about including each other.
If it comes to it I don’t want you to remember the ending.
Remember the beginning. Remember the first time you knew.