We've burned the lines again
After they've been dipped in gasoline
I guess I didn't think it through
The truth is somewhere in between
The things you never say
And what you say
And what you mean
And what you say
Is what it seems
But that doesn't make it any less
of what it is; a dream.

-ambEr

Courtney

I remember that night in January. I was wide awake at 3 am. My mind was filled with words; there were always so many words. My eyes had adjusted to the dark many hours before. I stared up at the ceiling pattern, visualizing words like it was a large spread of lined paper. My canvas. It was difficult for me to catch a single sentence or concept because the thoughts were moving too fast. Instead I imagined that random words made sense together. Sometimes I would lift my hand in the air and outline letters with my index finger until my arm got tired.

There was a thought that became an action, faster than I could realize what I was doing. I got out of bed, moving with such intent and purpose, yet I was never really sure at all of anything I did. At that time, I didn't need to understand; I just had to do. It was like my mind was put on automatic. I had a level of awareness that would say 'hey, what the hell are you doing?' but I never felt the need to stop and think anything through. One minute I was laying in bed staring at the ceiling and next thing I knew I was at my front door about to leave.

Slightly confused, I was out the front door in my sneakers, swimming trunks, and a t-shirt. I grabbed my Red Sox beanie hat on the way out and pulled it over my ears. Outside, Courtney stood on my porch, bundled up in a winter coat, giggling at my attire. I wondered how long she had been standing there. Maybe I called her. I couldn't remember. Either way, she was there and I was glad. She didn't comment on how I was wearing a t-shirt and swim shorts in the middle of January nor did she say anything about the time and my lack of sleep. Instead, she just grabbed my hand and pulled it into her coat pocket. At that moment, I realized how cold I was but almost immediately afterwards I felt warm again because of her holding onto my hand.

We took many walks together. In the beginning, she didnt ask any questions which made me want to tell her everything. She listened to me and seemed to remember every word. I was different; I asked tons of questions about her. I wanted to know everything from her political views to her favorite ice cream flavor. She never denied an answer or lied. When we first met, I took her to a place that I liked to go and that became our unspoken destination for every walk. We would sit on a bench that over-looked a long row of houses on the other end of the lake and talk for a while.

That night, while we were walking, we decided to be silent and just enjoy each others company. I was too disoriented to talk and she didnt feel like talking so it was easy. I loved being around her. We sat on our bench and watched over the quiet homes. It was especially beautiful with all of the snow and Christmas decorations that some of the families left up. The sky was clear of clouds and I had never seen so many stars in the sky.

It was a single movement, a motion, a gesture that made that night so special. Courtney looked at me and leaned her head on my shoulder. She rested on my t-shirt, so thin that almost made my shoulder seem bare, and sighed like there was no where in the world she would choose to be instead. It felt like a life-defining moment and I didnt know why. I didnt understand how such a small gesture could be so meaningful but somehow I was. I broke the silence then with the best words I knew how to speak:

"I wish we could be here forever. This is the only forever I'm not afraid of."
I could feel her jaw move with a smile. "I love you."
"I love you Courtney."

That moment shined a beam of clarity through my cloud of craziness. Those were the last words Courtney and I spoke to each other. There's the story of the tragic event that followed. It shut me down, made me sane from realization. There are the years of my life that went by wishing I could be okay without her. The story of my grief hovers over me. My hatred lingers. My sadness has become my shadow. Happiness is simply a faint memory. Those things are always there to haunt me... But somehow I can endure. When I put on a winter coat during the winter time, write a sensible short story on notebook paper, act according to logic, and fall asleep at 9 pm, I remember that night in January. I think about how nothing had to make sense. I feel my hand in her pocket, her fingers laced through mine, her head on my shoulder, and I hear her say 'I love you' one more time. And suddenly everything is okay again.

-Written by Amber Lindsay

My name is Amber Lindsay. The sentence that follows that is supposed to define me in a very general yet descriptive statement.
How did I do?