Remember when you'd ask me to do impressions? Or my 'voices', as you called them. You really liked my British voice. It always made you laugh and smile, which in turn made me laugh and smile. I felt it a little embarassing, but I enjoyed making you happy. Who will hear my voices now?
Remember our silly arguments? There's a countless collection to choose from: The one where I asked you to pronounce the word 'gravity' slowly so that I could hear your northern accent; our numerous arguments about being each other's babies (those were ridiculous, by the way); the ones where you would resist going to bed when I told you to. They were all so incredibly silly, but they made me happy. Who, now, will I have these arguments with?
Remember the names we made for our future children? Annabel Samantha, Lila Chlo, Nathaniel... I cannot remember the boys' names completely. But I think the name Nathaniel Jackson sounds good. I remember talking about the names Caleb and Jude, but our favorite names were always Annabel and Nathaniel. Who will I share these names with now?
Remember our in-depth conversations? Not just about God or our emotions, but about everything. Because words were all we had, we used them to their greatest extent. We talked so in-depth about every topic. Most couples would have avoided talking so descriptively of the things we did, but the distance forced us to. To me, that means so much more than kisses or hugs, or anything physical for that matter. Who could I possibly share such conversations with now?
Remember the stories we wrote together? I know, I was always horrible about sequeling, but it wasn't because I didn't care. It's just not my thing to write long stories. Short, concise and meaningful are my writing strengths. You were always more drawn-out than I was. Nonetheless, the stories we wrote were so innocent and playful and somewhat reflective of our own relationship. We fell in love writing together. Tell me, who will write with me now?
Do you remember the night that we unveiled our darkest secrets to each other? I find it kind of amusing that they were basically the same exact thing. You really can't fathom how amazed I was that you were struggling in the same way I was. In many ways, our secrets became one secret. The two became bound, unified into a burden and an escape that we indulged in. That November break will remain a very fond memory of my teenage years. I have never shared my secret with another person since telling you. Who can I share it with now?
So, do you see? All these things that I treasured with you, that I still treasure in memory, they are not shared. Not any longer. So much of our wonderful bond was a direct result of the predicament which caused us so much strife. In a way, many of the things we shared simply couldn't be replicated. So who, you ask, can I share these things with now?