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Dearest Pacifica,
I've known you eight years now. I remember the first day I saw you. Your blonde hair was flowing in the wind like the waves in the ocean. I thought then that nothing in this world could ever look more alive, more free than you did in that moment. And maybe that's why it hurts the way it does now because somewhere along the way, that light I admired began to fade, and I didn't know how to stop it.
I still see you in the smallest things in the way the ocean moves, in the sound of the wind brushing past, in every song we would belt out with no worry. And it aches, Pacifica, because those memories are all I have left.
I still sometimes wonder what life could've been like with you, if I just hadn't messed everything up. Would we still be getting into the same old trouble? Would we gaze at the night sky whilst lying against each other. I'd like to think thats how'd it be. I'll always love you, Pacifica.