I drown in rivers of tears racing down my flushed cheeks and lose myself. I lose myself, not to society, not to a restless sleep, but to my own thoughts, perhaps the most terrifying of all when left to their own devices. I fight with all my strength as I resolutely try to think of anything but the smile that once was your face, but somehow the image still creeps in like a snake stealthily sneaking up on an unsuspecting prey. It bites into my mind and pierces my thoughts, more clearly than ever. I see you smile that crooked, quirky smile that once made me laugh so very much. Just like in the very beginning…

The first day has engrained itself into the book of my memory as a chapter forevermore. Even now, a year and a half later, the details are as astonishingly vibrant as ever. It was a cheerful morning, not with the type of overly imposing sun that blinds nearly all its passersby with its delight, but rather with a subtle smiling sun shyly peaking out behind fluffy white cotton candy. The bus for our field trip was set to leave at eight o’clock. Looking back it does seem rather juvenile and cliché, a freshman year field trip to an amusement park, but at the time nothing could have seemed more blissfully romantic. I remember sitting with you on the bus ride, chatting as nonchalantly as possible with hordes of our friends giggling in the back and peaking over the seats to catch a glimpse of us. I remember when you took my hand and took me by surprise. Your fingers, calloused and patchy, somehow felt perfect intertwined with mine. It took me a while to gather the courage. Internally waging a war whether or not to say anything. In the end a little whisper in your ear did the trick, turning you a deep crimson. A little nod and a peck on the cheek sent us into a yearlong journey by which at the end neither of us would come out unscathed, but at the time we had not seen the significance. We remained blissfully ignorant to the substantial ramifications to come. Instead for the remainder of the day bright smiles lingered on our faces as permanent fixtures. When we arrived at the amusement park, we set out to part ways, yet we inexplicably couldn’t. We made way to the Ferris wheel and hopped onto a little blue cart. We waved to our friends below, who simply smirked and sniggered at us. Sitting next to you, holding your hand, my worries faded along with everything outside the confines of the small blue cubicle. Then, as if life was suddenly a scripted movie, at the pinnacle of the Ferris wheel, our lips came together. It was by no means perfection; in fact it was slightly awkward, yet somehow magical. No fireworks necessary to set off the sparks of euphoria within. As the Ferris wheel began its descent we tentatively clung onto each other, it was then that I first saw the beauty of your smile in its entirety. Not the unabashed smile you gave for all to see, but the slightly lopsided, ecstatic one, with just a slight dash of embarrassment and pure joy in the eyes. In a way, that smile accurately personified our relationship, slightly off balance, not perfectly aligned, but vivid and sweet. Bubbles of joy percolated within me and burst to the surface in an everlasting smile as we walked around, enjoying the happiness afforded only by new love. An impenetrable orb of happiness surrounded us when we rode upon the tumultuous roller coasters, unaware of the fact that in the year to come, our relationship would be more like a roller coaster than a Ferris wheel. The last vivid memory I possess of that day was of the jars of hearts. We strolled into a souvenir shop, hand in hand, eyes glued firmly to one another. I pried my eyes away from you just long enough to notice rows of empty bottles waiting to be filled with the bags of colored sand and shells next to them, unwritten stories waiting for creators. I scooped glittering black sand into a miniscule heart-adorned glass jar along with two white shells. I smiled at you as I said that they represented us, amid all the darkness. Topping the glass off with the bit of cork, I reached into my tote to give the saleslady change, but, naturally, with your dexterity you beat me to it. I headed back to the same counter and took out another bottle, with the exact decoration, and filled it with white sand and two similar shells. I grinned at you as I said that the two jars balanced each other out, two opposites that fit perfectly together. I gave you the black, while I kept the white for myself. You smiled that sweet, innocent, lopsided smile once more, illuminating my entire world.

In retrospect the choice of bottles was quite ironic. In our relationship, ultimately, I was black plague, rather than the white angel. The one who sent it spiraling out of control and into the abyss of darkness that devastated me so. As I let sleep lure me into its forgiving slumber, I see a faded version of the smile, the smile that had once only been intended for my eyes only, and I can’t help but wonder whose path it will shine on and whose life it will come to enlighten next.