“Why?” All the questions I have start with this complex three-letter word. The thing about this one word question is it requires an answer much longer than one word, such as, “yes” or “no”. It asks for an explanation, justification, and knowledge. Sometimes, the reasoning behind “why” cannot be put into words.
“Why did you leave me here? You promised forever, and forever is not eighteen.” I know as much of a choice as you did not have in this tragic, nightmare of a fate, you would still take the blame. You would apologize over and over until I inevitably give in, as I always did, and we would be more than okay again. This would not be our first time rehearsing this scene. I always tried to hold out, racking my brain for anything to stay angry for just a tiny bit longer. It never worked. You always had a way of fixing things, and fast. You always had the solution for my bad days, tears, and heart. You never failed to put a smile back on my face.
“Why you? You were behind me until we turned our opposing ways to go home. I could see you in my rearview mirror. You were fine. I was fine. It was a beautiful day, with the sun shining through our windshields. Why not the car going that went the opposite direction? I was on the road, going the same speed, at the same time as you. At the same time all was lost.” I know you would be furious with this particular thought that consumes my mind, but I cannot help but wonder why it had to be you. Why not me? I know you would tell me over and over, no matter how reluctant I would be to believing you, that I have a better future, more potential. Never will I believe that. Not many knew all that you were capable of because you hid behind your video games and the all star you were on the court. You were so much more. You had the ability to do everything you set your mind to. I saw you do it many times. Next, I know you would tell me you would rather it be your life and not mine, that you could never live this life without me. But who said I wanted to.
“Why will you never get to experience all the terrible, beautiful things this world has to offer? It’s not fair.” I know you would say the phrase that is always triggered by the word “fair”, but I feel like this phrase is often used without a thought. “Life isn’t fair, in the fact that we all have different lives, different situations, and different stories. But what about when a story ends without the author even knowing? When he turns the page to an unexpected blank? The author doesn’t get to experience all the ups and downs, and crazy unfairness of a novel. The pen stops flowing and he comes up short. The story does not even get a chance.”