Well, a week and a half ago we had ‘the talk’ we tried to DTR the thing we had. Fuckbuddies or shit I don’t know. Everybody already left so when we got ready to go to the city we had to race. We were talking and lifting our relationship to another thing. Something free, and loving, and mint and 360 degrees and fuck. He didn’t stop.  He never did. Red means stop, but he didn’t. The car that hit him was also red. Isn’t that ironic. Red means that you have to take a moment to fucking think. Where are you? Where do you want to go? What are you doing to yourself? He never did anything like that. Never. He was wasting himself. Breaking himself. When the car hit him, he wasn’t even himself anymore. He lost his soul. He smacked to the ground 30 meters away from where he was hit. I ran to him. I called his name, but he didn’t hear me. He never really does. I stayed with him. Called his friends. I got in the ambulance and stayed with him. I went to the hospital. Then he went away. Something wrong with his brains. He will get better, I know. He always does. He was put to sleep. Today, he tried to wake up. He is breathing again. He always will. But I miss him. I miss him so bad. We just had random drunk sex. But the last few days, before the accident. We talked. We never talk. Now he knows everything. And I know everything. We know each other. I just want to be with him. Show him I am with him. From the moment he got lost, till the moment he will wake up. I just want a hug. Just a hug. I need a hug to know he will be okay. And to know that I will be okay. And to know that we will be okay. Wake up. 

Please let me know if I’ll be okay. Save  me.