Don't Fear The Reaper

{epilogue. romeo and juliet are together in eternity}

❝So, I guess we are who we are for a lot of reasons. And maybe we'll never know most of them. But even if we don't have the power to choose where we come from, we can still choose where we go from there. We can still do things. And we can try to feel okay about them.❞

-The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky

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It's been a month and 2 days since my soulmate became an angel. And things have changed for the better, it seems.

I told Kat and Macy everything - from the crash to the reapers to saying goodbye to Will for real. Like rain on a country road, my emotions poured out endlessly, deflating the cloud that'd been hanging over my head for so long. My companions were shocked at first, but quickly rushed to comfort me, Macy hugging me and Kat squeezing my hand.

"I'm so sorry, Li. I promise you, I'll do anything I can to help you heal," Macy told me over my shoulder. After a moment, she let me go and looked me in the eyes, her inner artist continuing, "Once... you were a star. And then you were a supernova. And then you were a black hole. And now you may feel like nothing at all. But sometimes, nebulas can form again. And you will be okay."

I tried to ignore her romanticization of the situation, knowing that no matter how oblivious she may be sometimes, she's always had the best intentions at heart.

From behind Macy, Kat said with genuine empathy, "I'm with her. We're going to help you. I'm not letting my sister be taken away from me again."

My muscles relaxed as I thanked god above that they didn't judge me. To them, I said, "Okay."

"So, just to confirm..." Macy cocked her head. "Mor was Will? When we went to Australia, that was actually just Will in disguise? That's kinda sweet. It's like you guys got a few last happy memories together."

That's not quite how I saw it when we were traveling, but looking back, the memories were happy. The thought of them made me smile. It was really a ghost of a smile, just like the boy I loved, gone within an instant with the promise of always being with me.

He is with me. A month later, I know it for sure.

Not a day goes by that I don't feel Will encouraging me onward. It's usually subtle - a gust of warmth in a freezing classroom, a sunny day in a week of storms. Sometimes, as I lay in bed at night and continue to have nightmares, I toss and turn and swear I can feel him holding me, brushing my hair back from my pallid forehead and telling me tomorrow is another day.

It's because of this that I've been able to pool the strength to do something I've dreaded for a while: accept the help I've always been offered, and go back to therapy.

I'll never claim therapy as a catch-all fix for my mental illness, because it is not. But talking to Dr. Pavone again, along with taking my meds and opening up to my friends and holding on to the last breath of the late summer, has made me feel a lot better.

Sure, there's never going to be a time I don't miss Will. And my emotions are as mercurial as they've always been. Sometimes I'm sad, sometimes I'm happy, and sometimes I'm somewhere messy in between.

But it's enough for me to move along. Enough for me to get up in the morning and try my best to make Will's legacy last. I go to the football games with Veronica, wave to Macy cheering on the track, root for the Jackals as they slowly adjust and get better through the season. They may not win the championship again, but they're in the playoffs right now. I'm pretty sure it's mostly because of one thing, which I witnessed: Trevor's confrontation of the team over how quickly they moved on from Will's death.