Dear Allen, to whom I remember the first hello to the last hug. To the one who showed me the real meaning of love. The one who made me feel worth a women. And to the one who showed me the real meaning of a heartbreak. You who surrounds himself with people, but show loss and anger in those brown eyes. The glossy look in those eyes is the build-up of all the tears you shed during those nights you felt the most lonely. Your beautiful curls filled with twisted thoughts and confusion of who you really are besides that jock everyone expects you to be. You are the type of person to represent pink, not for the color, but for the significance of it. Pink that means loss and grief, but motivation inside and out the field.

As I got to know who you really were, I found myself as well. We were both our missing piece in a record player that prevented us from living in the harmony of life.

Long days and long nights built a special connection as two paper clips intertwined. Until slowly they found their way out of that connection, broken by a sudden tragedy of loss feelings. During that time it was the right thing to do, but as time went by my heart felt heavier and heavier and all I wanted to see was your smile, your eyes, hear your laugh, and touch those beautiful curls. Ever since then we are like two lost papers finding their way to each other, fragile and broken down, but to be separated by the wind.

Never meant to be together.