Torn Together

Let's start here. It was Monday, I was sad, the rain was falling, my tears were fading, the song was ending, and he was gone. Well, from what I was told he was gone. Permanently I was told, "so he could never be hurt by you and your love ever again" as his parents put it.

I never meant to hurt him. And by that I mean I didn't even know I hurt him. We were so different that I guess my normal was his insane. That my idea of a good time was his idea of the worst night of his life. That my tired was his wide awake.

He was so fragile. Not like glass or paper. He was not an object so I don't look at him like that. He was just fragile. I would be too if I was him. But he never knew the whole story.

I knew his but he did not know mine. I knew about every scrape and bruise he ever recieved because he needed someone to listen. I knew about his wildest dreams and his worst nightmares. His fears, his wishes, his hopes, his everything. I knew it all.

He never knew I was the same way as him. A person hiding behind confined walls they built themselves. A person that cries themselves to sleep and screams awake every day. A person who's wrist is stained with more memories than a quilt or a scrapbook. In every way he thought we were different we were the same.

But his dead now.

He's gone.

And I never told him. I never ever told him. Not once did I say "I love you Niall."

But this was all before I saw him in line at the store. Before I realized that I had another chance.