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To You, With Love.

From One World to the Next.

By Ashleigh GPublished 4 years ago 3 min read
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To You, With Love.
Photo by Rocco Stoppoloni on Unsplash

You left before we ever locked eyes.

In my dreams, I see you. Big brown eyes, staring knowingly as if we've met before. Long, pale fingers reaching out but we're worlds apart.

I always want to fix people, but I was too late with you. Two people, continents apart. Two people, two very different worlds. It may have been impossible, but I would've tried hard to make it work.

The people you were around encouraged you into your own demise. It's rich that an industry that provides for the talented feeds only negative substance. It numbed you from the memories you relived in your sleep, over and over again.

Life was one big bender, and you were in it for the ride. I wish I was the one who could've saved you, freed you from the hell you were going through. In hindsight, maybe I couldn't have anyway. Popularity fills a hole that many have in their lives, but it gets overwhelming, doesn't it?

Would you have liked me? More than just someone to occupy your bed for a night before you moved on. More than just someone who tried to figure you out for their own gain. More than a cheap hook up - there was a never ending supply of people who wanted you but for all the wrong reasons. You may not have even been looking for someone, that person who could've made a part of you whole.

I could've just maybe ticked one of your boxes - my body holds long-healed wounds for people to look at. You were a walking art piece, something a person could admire all day and not grow tired of. People looked at you the wrong way until cameras were on you... funny how as soon as you become known, people want more of you.

I hear you after you're long gone and my heart grows heavy. The world loses people every day, but you, yes you, were the one people - myself included - grieved for. Not because you had enough money to make your relatives happy, but because you touched people down to their pores and gave them reason to live. We lost you because you lost yourself. We found ourselves through you. You live on in the media and people love you because they've revived you in their own ways.

The ones you loved - they knew they had someone special. How you looked at them with a keen observance. Now that's irreplaceable.

When you spoke, the world saw what it needs - honesty. It's not just endearing that people find about you. For some, it's unnerving. The hell that people went through - you realized that. You made it raw, open, and more importantly, valid.

People would've traded in their entire lives to have a shot to be near you, feel your energy. Little do they recognise that your energy is not just your own - they need that within themselves.

No one could've imitated you, because no one could've been you like you were. You motivated people; if the world told you about their success stories, would that have kept you here? A few had the chance to tell you, but maybe it wasn't enough. Sometimes living for other people isn't enough, is it?

A couple of years, almost exactly to the day you moved from world to the next, I found myself in the ICU, clawing for air. You succeeded, baby, and I wish I did too. If things could've been different, I would've swapped places so that you had a chance. Would your life have been any different? Maybe. It would've been worth it just to see you make a bigger impact than I ever could. Our dreams are different, but you're in mine.

I don't grieve for the kings and queens who had everything. Not at all. I cry for the people who tried. The people who needed someone but didn't have them. The ones who left when they had so much to offer. The every man. I mourn for the children who grew up too soon, and the kids who grew into bodies and responsibilities that far outweighed their capabilities.

The world needed you, but all you needed was your mother and someone who could've made you complete. I cry for the mother who spent years raising you, for she was one of the lucky ones.

If I was just like you, would my family be proud of me? Maybe, maybe not. I remember visiting my girlfriend in hospital because she tried too, and think of you.

It's too late, but maybe one day.

sad poetry
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About the Creator

Ashleigh G

I'm a dreamer - perhaps quite literally. Daydreams occupy the majority of my thoughts, and almost every morning I wake up with the memory of a vivid dream.

These are my thoughts, feelings, opinions etc. Happy reading! xx

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