I have a love like none other. One that extends beyond the grave and beyond that. My life (if you want to call it that) is populated sometimes by nothing but the blackest of black blankness. These days I call "Hush Days" because the only sound is a swishing whir like an engine choked with water.

     See, I have a guy, too, but he can't come where I am. Where I am is not for those of flesh and blood. Where I am is for the dead and only the dead.

     Two years ago, I died. Two years ago, I drew my last breath in a pool of my own blood gasping for air. I was hit by a car. A silver SUV with a completely innocent old lady behind the wheel. I was fourteen. Was.

     He has blonde hair and is tall and perfect. He was the first to be told about my... accident. Last year, he tried to join me. A belly full of his prescribed antidepressants with a name I can't pronounce. They pumped his stomach and kept him for a week and he was commited for three weeks or so. His last word before passing out was my name.

     He joins me today. Today is the anniversary of my... passing, and he, ironically, died of an accident. His parent's car swerved to avoid a child playing in the road and hit a tree in the park nearby. He was killed instantly at exactly 10:07 A.M. and his parents walked away with minor cuts and bruises. His mother has a broken finger.

     Oh, how I've missed him, though our reunion is bittersweet. He is dead. He will never be older than sixteen. He will never graduate or get a job or go to college. Just stay here in the dark with me until the end of days.

     Love is a tragic thing, isn't it?

     I must go now. As I speak, the darkness of the Hush is creeping in and I feel it's first cool - if you can call it that - tendrils touching my arms, legs, back and I can hear the swishing whir of the watery engine that chugs on and on for what I think are hours. I don't know, I can't tell time here for there is none. I must leave you now. I hope we can speak soon... Good-bye, friend.