It’s been three years since you’ve died… three long years, but it still feels so fresh to me. It’s like you were just with me a moment ago, and now you’re just gone. I miss you more and more with each day’s passing, and even though I’m doing better dealing with you being gone now, I still wish I could turn back time to when you were alive.
I know you’re up in Heaven watching down on me, but I wish you were here with me, because things have been a little… out of control lately. Okay, maybe that’s a tad dramatic of a description but things really have been kind of crazy.
For starters, I’m in college. I go to a local community college – scratch that, not our local; I moved out of San Diego, and now I live with Drew, Paul, and Scott in their apartment in Los Angeles. I still don’t really know how that happened, and needless to say, my parents were thrilled about me moving in with my boyfriend and his two friends, but this was something I really wanted to do – almost needed to do. Home hasn’t been the same since you left, and sometimes it really hurts to be there and feel so alone.
And after all, I am twenty. It’s not like they can keep me at home forever.
But anyway, I’m in college now. My third year to be exact, and like I said before, I go to a community college. I major in English, which is fun; I mean, I take a lot of writing and literature classes, and you know that’s my area of expertise. I should be graduating this year but I’m not sure what’s going to happen next though. I mean, obviously I want to go to a university but I just don’t know if it’s going to happen anytime soon.
Money’s kind of tight around here. I’m already working two jobs, and for the most part, I really like them. I bartend on weekends and during the week I’m a waitress part time. Sure, it’s tough with all my homework and everything, but I’ve been managing. And the pay’s pretty good; I basically live for tips so I’m eternally grateful to any and everyone who decides to help out a broke college student. I still want to write and I plan on making my living as an author, but that dream has kind of been put on hold for now. Mostly because I have a little too much on my plate already, what with school and working two jobs – I literally barely have a social life. And nevermind the fact that my first novel isn’t finished yet, even though I’ve pretty much been working on it for almost three years (now I understand why John Green only has, like, five books published – not including “Let It Snow”). So as of right now, waiting on people is funding me and writing for people is taking the backseat. For now.
I took out student loans to pay for college, and for the most part, almost all of my money is being saved to pay off those loans – ugh. But I also help the guys pay rent and bills, even though they insist I don’t have to, I insisted to help out a little bit. They were kind enough to let me move in after all. But I really hope one day soon, Drew and I can get our own place. He wants to too, and he’s been saving almost all of his money from work for our own house, or apartment, or just something we can call our own. We need it; we’re ready for that next step in our relationship. We’ve been together over three years now, and after you died, he was really there for me. He’s great, and I love him so much. But no matter how much I love him, the kid still drives me crazy.
I really want him to get a real job – okay, not a “real” job, but a better one, a stable one. Stripping worked for him when he was younger, but he can’t do it forever. We fight about this a lot, and I think deep down, he knows that I’m right but he’s too damn stubborn to admit it. He says that stripping is the only thing he’s good at – which is a lie – and he doesn’t think he can maintain a “real” job – also a lie. I wish he believed in himself the way I did.
But fighting isn’t the only reason things have been tense between us; we both work crazy hours, especially during the weekends, so we don’t see each other as often as we’d like to. I feel like we’re going a little distant, and it sucks. Even when we’re in the same room, it’s like we’re miles apart. We both want to make it work though, but I don’t really know what to do.
On top of all of that, I think I’m getting sick – just my luck, right? It’s probably nothing serious or anything, but every morning for the past few days, I’ve been waking up kind of nauseous, and I’m always so tired, more than usual. It kind of came on out of nowhere, which was weird. But I don’t think it’s anything to be too concerned about…
I don’t know, Frankie, I really don’t. And I know that sounds vague as hell but it’s just how I feel lately – one big “I don’t know,”
I know you can’t read this letter, but writing to you helps me. It makes me wonder what advice you’d give me if I needed it, what you’d say to me. It makes me feel like you’re still here with me. I really wish you were here, Frankie. It’s times like these when I really need my best friend. Even though you’re always in my heart, it doesn’t make me miss you any less. I hope that wherever you are, you’re at peace. I hope you think of me sometimes, because I think of you all of the time.
That’s all I have time to write for now. If anything else comes up, you’ll be the first to know.
Love always, Delilah