The biggest lesson that life has taught me isn't about life itself. It's that love continues. Love does not stop after you have watched the one you love, say goodbye. Love doesn't even falter when your love has died. It goes on. 

It keeps whispering to you, saying how much it cares. It keeps saying, "Love me back." And you do. Because it's seductive and romantic and beautiful. It doesn't stop, not when you die, and not when it fades.

 You can try and deny it. It's kind of useless, though. You can try and protest when your heart picks itself out of its chest and soars. That's really very pointless, though. Once it's finished flying, it will return to tell you, "This is the one."

And there are all sorts of love. There's romantic. There's platonic. There's familial. And though each type is different, it has one thing in common...

Love can break your heart. It'll cause you so much pain that you gasp for breath. And yet... When the pain is gone, love is still there. Love keeps on, like I said before. It endures and it copes and it prays for the next time like the first time never really happened.

I guess that's what life is about, love I mean. There's all sorts of ways to die, all sorts of ways to live... But only one way to love -- Fully, completely, and absolutely. You don't give up on life, because of love. You don't give up on love, because of life. It's a full cycle. It's beautiful.

Now, I don't have a real good firsthand experience of this, but I'm going to try and describe it.

Love is beautiful. Love is pleasure, and it is pain. Love is something that doesn't go away. Love is something you carry with you, always, for everyone you've ever loved. It doesn't go away after death - it doesn't go away after heartbreak.

It continues.

Don't tell me a condescending lie, when I’d rather the ugly truth.

Don't give me any pretty words

No false promises to soothe

I am a warrior, I am more than used

To this.

Do you really think I love you so little

That betraying me would make a difference?

I am not the fragile little thing you once knew

I have grown. I have had to grow.

Like a flower forced to bloom

A child growing up too soon

I am not a girl. I have seen too much of the world.

So don’t bother trying to douse the fire.

The fire’s in my eyes.

Fact 1. The numbers 1 in 68 are growing smaller. Autism is taking over.

Fact 2. Autism Spectrum Disorder is too broad. Asperger's Syndrome and severely autistic are two different things.

Fact 3. You're either good at math, or you're good at English. This is a catch 21, you can't really succeed at both. (Unless you're some sort of mutant.)

Fact 4. Most of us love the term Aspie. It defines us and unites us together.

and

Fact 5. The person writing this has Asperger's Syndrome and refuses to change it to simply 'Autism'.

They say the grass is greener on the other side

But sides always change

It's green where you are,

Your tears are the water that the soil needs

To grow.

4/30/15.

The day my grandfather died, I cried for hours. The day he died, I thought my world was going to end. And in a way -- it did. The world did continue revolving around the sun, but he did not. He did not continue on, and that made all the difference to me.

He continued to be in my heart, and in my mind (my thoughts) but in my life? He was gone. He was dead. I still don’t quite understand what it means to die. Perhaps I never will, until I do it myself.

On the thirtieth day of April in 2015, I woke up and I knew it was going to not be a good day. Papaw’s strength had gone the day before. It was only a matter of time before the light in his eyes did as well, right? Right.

When I went into the room he died in, I felt cornered. There were so many people. There were people everywhere; my Nana at Papaw’s side, my cousins around the bed, and my aunt and uncles were there too. Even relatives I’m not sure how closely they are related to me, were there.

All because of Papaw. Papaw mattered. And I never felt more like that than on the day he died. The world may have gone on, but for those twenty-four hours, the world seemed to stop. Stop rotating, stop moving, time even stopped. I had no concept of when it was that he died. I still don’t.

I heard singing. Lots of it; my Uncle David was playing guitar, and we were gathered around him, singing worship. Praise be to God, even though He was taking away the most important man of my life.

I don’t remember the song’s names, but I am sure it is burned into Uncle David’s mind. Perhaps one day I’ll ask him about it. I do remember how strong my cousin’s arms were, holding tightly to me so that I would not crumble when I fell.

Oh, and fall I did. When his last breath was taken, I swear my own heart stopped. I could not continue for a moment, and then, after I cried…. I stopped. I stopped crying, and I went out of the room. I went to call my Mom. She lives in Kansas, and didn’t even come to say goodbye to him. I think I hate her for that.

She was monotonous on the phone when I called. Then I texted my friends, my beams of support, that it had happened. I didn’t read their replies. But I knew they were there for me - as surely as if they were there beside me.

And then it registered inside me that Memaw, my great-grandmother, wasn’t there. I asked where she’d gone, because how could she miss this moment? Apparently, it hadn’t been a choice for her to make.

She’d fallen when she was trying to come inside the house. She’d hit her head, hard, and it had made her gush blood out of her head. I am thankful I did not see this. She’d gotten to say goodbye to him, but then she wasn’t there when it actually happened. I rather think she will never forgive herself for that, however out of her control it might have been.

Papaw’s death impacted me. I think I might never recover from it. Not in the way you’d think, anyway. I was there when it happened. I watched Nana wipe the sweat from his brow, and I watched her whisper a goodbye in his ear. She didn’t love him as fiercely as she had when I was young, perhaps she’d never even loved him that fiercely, but she’d been there.

And in the end, I suppose that’s all that really matters.

Ex. You haunt me. I’m not sure if that’s because of the way you left, or the way you stayed. You keep me at the edge of my seat. I turn every corner, waiting and expecting to hear from you. But I never do.

Ex. You terrify me. I'm not sure if that's because of the way you affected me when you were here, or the way your leaving has affected me. You keep me on my toes. I am constantly waiting and watching, expecting you to show up when I least expect it.

Ex. You disappoint me. I'm not sure if that's simply because you left, or the fact that you promised you wouldn't. You had me going there, for a while. I was starting to trust that you'd always be there. But then you- you left.

Ex. You left me. I'm not sure if it's because I was too clingy, or because you have commitment issues. You left me. I'd never have left you. I would have kept you so close, because you were so close to me.

Oh. Oh...Perhaps, perhaps your leaving was the best thing to ever happen to me. Perhaps you leaving shaped me into a person that I never would have been with you at my side. Perhaps you leaving, gave me strength.

Oh. Did you know that I blamed myself for the longest time? Just look at this, I'm still blaming myself. But it was never my fault. I didn't do anything to you, I just loved and loved and now I lost.

Oh. You may have left, but you haven't let go. Perhaps it is that, or perhaps it is that I haven't let go. I still love you as deeply as I had before. That's a mistake. I still would take you back if you ever so much as turned to glance behind you. That's a mistake.

Perhaps all this was to teach me a lesson. Perhaps this letter is to teach you one. Who knows? Frankly, who cares anymore? It's in the past, and that's where I need to keep it.

I knew her like a book. Indeed, she was my favourite page turner. I waited and waited for her to come back, but this best friend was now a stranger. I was the one who waited, and she didn’t give a damn.

Her favourite colour was the same blue as Belle’s eyes. Has it changed in a year? Her favourite character of all time had to be Belle as well. Has it changed since I last chatted with her? I knew the name she wanted to give her child. Has it changed? Her brain chemicals were against her, the disease giving her headache after headache. I ache for her to be happy.

Where there was once sweet, fond greetings, there was now stony silence. Every message I sent, got left on read, until there came a time when I realised I was dead to her. Indeed, there was no use in messaging anymore.

Where there was once a proud introduction between friend and me, now she’s warning people against me. She turns people against me, until I’m left alone.

How do you end up a stranger to your best friend? Did I hold on too tight? At least now I’ve let go, right? I’m letting go, everyday, and it gets easier and easier. I’ll always love this strange person, but she has made her choice.

If she’s reading this, somehow, somewhere, I don’t know if I would change a single letter. She has been there and while I’m sure, positive even, that her side of the story is quite different, I lived it too.

I love you, stranger.

Hit 'em quick, get out fast.

Stay alive until this horrible show has passed.

Sir, you're needed at the hospital. It's your son. He's been shot.

The damage had been done and there was nothing he could do to change that. He'd traveled to the hospital so quickly Eliza had assumed he'd used magic. Even though she was still furious with him, knowing what he'd done to her, to their relationship, she was so glad to see him.

She was afraid. Phillip was just nineteen. There was no way he was going to die just yet, right? And yet, something dark, something terrible nagged at her in the back of her mind. "Stay alive." She begged him silently. "That would be enough."

It was the night before Christmas morning, and all through the house, not a creature stirred - except for a mouse-like girl.

Brooklyn was eight years old. She had brown hair, and brilliant blue eyes. Her long hair went down her back and was often in a pony tail, two pigtails, or a braid. 

Brooklyn crept down the stairs, her eyes flitting back and forth as she took each step. Finally she reached the end, and turned to the living room's archway.

Finally, she thought to herself. I'm going to catch Santa! The living room was dark, but the soft glow from the Christmas tree illuminated her features. The Christmas tree was lit up, even at the late hour, and decorated beautifully. Brooklyn had spent hours working on it the day before.

Brooklyn's eyes darted from the Christmas tree to the table beside the tree. Sure enough, the cookies were gone - only crumbs remained - and the milk had been drunk. She smiled widely, and whirled around when she heard another sound. However, this was no weird sound. In fact, it was rather familiar.

It sounded like when her mama kissed papa.

Brooklyn peered forward, noticing two figures pressed together as if they were kissing.

"Santa?" she called. "It's me, Brooklyn."

The two figures pulled apart.

"Mama? Why're you kissin' Santa Claus?" Brooklyn demanded, rushing forward into her mother's waiting arms.

"Brooklyn sweetheart, why aren't you asleep?" Mama asked, in a scolding voice. "I was hoping to keep this up for another year."

"Keep what up mama?" Brooklyn frowned. Mama pressed a hand into Brooklyn's cheek affectionately, and Brooklyn smiled giggling a little.

"Um, the truth is..." Mama said slowly, gesturing to Santa.

Santa took off his beard, making Brooklyn gasp. Then he took off his glasses, and his red hat, as well.

"Papa!" She exclaimed. "Where's Santa? How'd you do that?" She asked in shock.

"Erm," Papa and Mama both shifted uncomfortably. "The truth is, darling, you're a wizard."

Brooklyn's mouth dropped open. "I'm a wizard? Then how did papa... Oh, is papa a wizard too? Mama, are you?" Brooklyn asked quickly all in a rush.

Mama opened her mouth to respond, when all of a sudden, a green looking monster came into the living room.

Papa and Mama both hurriedly hid Brooklyn behind their bodies, forming a wall of anger.

"This would have been easier, Erin, if you'd accepted my suit." The green monster said angrily.

"I didn't love you." Erin, who was Brooklyn's own mama, said just as angrily. "It's not my fault Aaron stole my heart, Greyson!"

Greyson, who was the green monster, yelled in fury as Aaron lurched forward, trying to hit Greyson.

It didn't work.

Greyson ended up killing Aaron.

"Are you feeling any different now towards me?" Greyson asked Erin angrily.

"Murderous." Erin assured the monster.

Brooklyn was stood there, in shock.

"What a shame."

Erin wrapped her arms around Brooklyn and Brooklyn was then teleported into a safe room.

What a shame that meant Erin's death.