Tristan.
You can’t take back time, can you? You can’t go back to yesterday, you can’t go back and take that test again that you failed, you can’t take back those words you said, can you?
No. You can’t.
At least, I can’t. Because I’ve tried.
So there’s no way to get back to you, Tristan.
I love you.
I loved you.
I can still remember you from the first time we met.

You were confident, I wasn’t. Your tender face, cracked into my favorite crooked smile that made my heart stop beating. Your blue eyes, cool blue, sweet, sweet icy blue. Your lips, warm, pink, and inviting.
You saw me, you targeted me, and you found me.
I was down, deep down in a hole I had dug my life into. When my mom left me...I had nothing.
I was nothing.
I was waiting.
Waiting for you, Tristan.
Waiting for you to put your strong arms around me and pull me up and out of my hole.
You did.
You called my name, at the beach that night.
“Casey! Hey, Casey, wait up!’
I waited.
“Hey, you’re Casey right? I’ve seen you around, in school,” you were out of breath, “I think we’ve had a couple of classes together?”
I nodded.
I wanted you to go away; I wanted everyone to go away. She left us, why shouldn’t everyone else?
“So...um...are you okay?” You asked me.
I nodded again, and you laughed at me.
“What?” I accused.
“She talks!” you exclaimed.
That was the first time I smiled, really smiled, in months.
“So, for real, are you okay?”
“Oh...um...yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”
“I wonder why I don’t believe you.” you said with a small smirk. “Let’s walk.” You offered.
We walked.
And I told you, Tristan. I told you
everything.
Beginning to end, I told you everything. And you were a good listener, too. You listened and you didn’t interrupt me. After I was done, you sat down and held me until I had cried out every tear I had left, and it felt good.
And when I was a little better, you asked me out, and it was my turn to laugh, but it was without humor.
“What?” you asked.
“I don’t know if your sure you want to deal with this.” I pointed to myself.
“I’m sure.” You said.
And I believed you.

You can’t take back time, Tristan. You can’t go back.

You can’t go back to that night we were in your car, driving down the highway at three in the morning.
We weren’t drunk, we weren’t crazy, we weren’t suicidal, we were just in love.
Don’t accuse.
We were lying on the grass in my backyard when you said that we should go for a ride.
Just like the first day we met, when you said that we should go for a walk.
And, just like the first day we met, I followed you. Into your car. You drove randomly, and when I asked where you were going, you said,
“I don’t know. It doesn’t matter, as long as I’m with you, Casey.”
You turned to look at me.
“I love you.” you said. It was the first time anyone had ever said that to me and really meant it.
And I was about to say it back, say ‘I love you too, Tristan’, but I couldn’t. Because a big black truck came swerving down the highway in the wrong direction.
Swerving right into us.
And it hit us, it hit you. We flipped three times, and landed right side up.
You head was bleeding, your eyes were closed, you weren’t moving.
“Tristan!” I screamed. I unbuckled me and then you, and pulled you carefully out of the car. Your eyes opened, you saw me, Tristan.
“Casey.” You whispered. You breathing slowed, to a gentle, gentle stop. Right before you left, you found my hand and squeezed.
“Tristan! Tristan, please!” I shrieked. “Tristan! I love you!”

You can’t go back. You can’t fix it.

I asked God to kill me that night; I was nothing without you, Tristan, nothing! Why did you leave me? Why?

I look up. I’m in my room, my fist stuck in a hole in the wall. No, I wasn’t sleeping, I wasn’t dreaming, just remembering.
My dad came in the room and asked me what happened. I was crying.
“Honey? What did you do? Did you hurt yourself?”
I shook my head no.
He looked at the ground and saw the shattered picture of Tristan. I hadn’t even realized I had smashed it in my angry memories.
“Oh, honey.” My dad said. “Tyler died a year ago; you can’t still be doing this now.” He picked up the picture.
“Tristan! His name is Tristan! And don’t touch him! Leave him alone!” I pushed my dad away.

I couldn’t take it anymore. That night, at three in the morning, I got in my car and drove to the highway. I pulled over to the place where we had flipped over, and saw the skid marks on the road from your car. Saw the marks on the guard rail.

Then I went to the middle of the road, and laid down.
I couldn’t live without you, Tristan.
You left a mark on my heart, and I left a mark on the highway...

in blood.
You can’t take back time, Tristan.
Tristan.