I'm trying not to hold onto you. As much as I absolutely adore the memories I have with you, I know I need to move on.

It's been over a year since I lost you. I need to get over you, especially sooner rather than later. I can't stay in love with someone who has already left the Earth and won't be coming back any time soon. It's just not possible.

Maybe in another lifetime, a better lifetime, we could have been together, but it seems like, for now at least, I'm destined to be with someone else, even if I don't want to be with anyone else besides you.

.

I'm trying to get back to you. I have been fighting tooth and nail, fighting with the Powers That Be, trying to find a loophole in my death so I can be sent back to Earth to continue living the life I used to have with you before I messed everything up.

The only thing I know is that I will do literally anything if it means that I can get to hold you in my arms one last time, even though I don't deserve it.

.

I'm trying to move on from you. I found someone at Uni who looks exactly like you, which was really trippy in the beginning. They're always pacing around the tall, thick tree you hung yourself from, almost like they're looking for the reason why you did it.

I keep on wanting to go up to them, to introduce myself to them, tell them about the girl they look so similar to, but I feel like I can't. I feel like I'm betraying you if I start befriending someone who looks exactly like you, especially when you're no longer here to stop me from pretending that she is a kind of "new you."

I know it's silly that I'm thinking all of this, yet I still feel this way. I, technically, really shouldn't feel bad about this. You're dead. and they're not. There's literally nothing you can do to stop me, even though I wish you could. I'd let you stop me from doing anything as long as I could get you back.

.

I'm trying to get close to you. After what feels like eons on end, I've found a portal to the Ghost World that the Powers That Be use to go from World to World. The bad part is that I've been stuck in the same spot ever since I got here- the place where I hung myself after finding out that I was pregnant.

Even now, I don't regret killing myself.

My only regret is hurting you.

.

I'm trying to keep you close to my heart while still trying to let you go. I spoke to the pacing person under your tree after weeks of watching, and they hesitantly asked why I approached them. Apparently they're such a wallflower that they didn't expect me to come over and start up a conversation with them.

They are so similar to you that it's terrifying. Although they look years more tired than you ever did while you were still alive, this new person has your smile, and your laugh, and your snarky comebacks. It's almost like they're a carbon copy of you that God made to torture me with.

As much as I want to ask if I'm losing my mind, imagining you up in front of me as this new person I let become a part of my pathetic life, I can't. I don't want to have this new person, this caring person who reminds me so much of you, leave me because of my insanity.

I can't afford to lose you again, even if this person isn't even the real you.

.

I'm trying to figure out when to tell you. I don't want you to freak out and leave me, but I don't want to keep on lying to you about who I am. I'm terrified that you're going to do something rash when I come out to you.

I really hope you don't.

.

I'm trying not to lose sight of the person that looks so much like you. Random people have been coming up to me, asking why I sit alone under your tree so often. When I asked my dorm-mate if they ever see the person pacing under your tree, they asked me if I've ever been diagnosed with visual and auditory hallucinations.

I really hope that I'm not hallucinating any of this. I don't think I'll be able to handle realizing that none of this is real.

.

I'm trying to figure out how to tell you.

Whenever I see you, I become so happy that my mind blurs, and I can't even imagine telling you that I'm the ghost of your dead girlfriend. I know that if I keep on procrastinating that it'll only get worse when I actually tell you, so that's why I've made up my mind. Today is the day that I'll tell you, if I can actually force the words out of my throat.

.

I'm trying to believe you. When I went to see the pacing person under your tree, they told me that not only are they a ghost- which I'm seriously trying to wrap my mind around without going mad- but that they are also you- my extremely, and completely, dead girlfriend.

After months of sitting with this person as your tree re-flowered the way it did the season you died in, let the flowers fall like raining poperee, and sent the leaves to the ground with the mission to crackle under passerby's boots, I learned to accept that this new person wasn't you. I learned to ignore my gut feeling telling me that this was you somehow communicating with me through the grave.

I can't help but think that now, after all this time, now you tell me?

This isn't okay.

It's not okay at all.

.

I'm trying to get back to you. I figured out how to leave the tree, by projecting myself away from the energies from my place of decease. It took what felt like eons of trying, but I did it. Then, I asked around to the souls left behind if there was anywhere I could go to find a way back to the World of the Living.

An overdosee who's stuck in front of the Indian Man monument in town told me about the portal at the local elementary school's playground. When I went there, I found it under the plastic, yellow slide.

I didn't expect it to work.

Now, I'm back on your plane of existence after ending up in my somehow-restored-to-new body, digging myself out of a deep and surprisingly moldy grave, and stealing a damp, white dress out of a local dry-cleaners so I'm not looking like I'm wearing a decayed corpse-bride costume.

I need to find you. If I can find you, then we can be together again, as long as you still want to be with me. That's all that matters- that I can ask you if you'll take me back after breaking your heart not once, but twice.

.

I'm trying to figure out how to tie a noose, like I haven't tried tying them before now. After week after week after week on end of going back to your tree again, and again, and never finding you there, I've decided to take matters into my own hands, even if my decisions are idiotic and best, and completely insane at worst. I've been thinking for a while that maybe, hopefully, if I'm in the land of the dead with you, that I can find you and be with you there. That's why I'm sitting here, in your frost covered tree, trying to gain the courage to end my life the way you ended yours almost two years ago.

I really hope this works. If it doesn't, then I guess you'll never know.

.

I'm trying to get my dry throat to call out your name. I had a gut feeling that you'd be at my tree, so I started running that way. Now that I can see you in my tree, about to slip and fall into your own personal oblivion, I'm sprinting, crying, raspily calling out your name as I try to get your eyes off of the moon-lit ground.

Why can't I yell louder?

Why can't I run faster?

Why won't you look at me?

I'm almost close enough to touch you when you close your eyes, sigh dramatically, and slip off of the tree with a deafening SNAP.

.

I'm trying not to freak out. Really, I am.

I'm standing- floating?- in front of my dangling body, my shocked face swinging back and forth a few inches from the ground. I hear the sound of something hitting frigid grass behind me, and when I turn to face the noise, I find you there, having fallen to your knees with your hands reaching out towards me. I reach out to touch you, hoping that I can hold your ghostly hand for the rest of my existence. Instead, my hand goes right through yours.

The only way this is possible is if you're alive- and that's not possible. You're dead.

You have to be dead.

.

I'm trying to not to pass out. Somehow, through my never-ending tears and painful sobs, I wonder if this was how you felt when you found me hanging by the same tree, surrounded by pink petals filling the dead air with a sunny irony. I wish that I could ask you, but I can't seem to make my voice work the way I want to.

Looking up at your ghost, standing in front of your dangling body, all I can ask is, "Why couldn't you have waited a few more minutes?"

.

I'm trying not to take your harsh words seriously. Most of all, I'm struggling to comprehend how you're alive, how you got here, who let you take your humanity back and leave the grave behind. This shouldn't be possible, yet it appears to be from where I stand.

Through a haze of awe, I can't help but breathe out, stupidly may I add, "You're alive…"

.

I'm trying to gain the strength not to start screaming at you. "Yes! I'm alive, and you're not, and now all of the months that I've spent trying to get back to you has been wasted on nothing because you're gone!"

My heart is racing for the first time in eons. My bones are shivering from the force of the cool wind around us mixing with the grief I hoped I'd never have to experience. If I could actually breathe, I would rise to my shaky knees, rip your body down, and join you in the afterlife I didn't mean to put you in.

I can feel my new body tensing in response as you kneel in front of me, reaching out to touch me. Similarly to when our roles were reversed, your hand goes straight through my shoulder. Instead of feeling the warm touch I miss so much, an even colder burst of pained nerves crashes onto my heaving shoulder.

.

I'm trying to comfort you in the only way that I've ever known how to, and I can't even do that right anymore. All I want to do is take away your pain, and hold you in my arms, and tell you that we're going to be together again. I wish that I could, but I can't do that, and I hate myself for it even more than I already do.

When my arms drop to my sides, you look up at me with warm, liquid crystals falling down your flushed cheeks. Your lip quivers, and you sniffle, and my heart shatters as you try and push a lock of my shoulder length black hair behind my ear before realizing that, as much as you may want to, you can't.

I have to make up for killing myself. I have to get back to you.

"How did you get back to Earth- the not dead- the living Earth? Maybe if I follow your footsteps, I can get back too. I'll do anything, I swear to God. I'll do anything it takes to get back to you-"

.

I'm trying not to let even more tears fall. I'm trying to keep everything that I want to let out inside of me; my anger at you for killing yourself before I could get to you, my grief and sadness at losing you all over again, and my crippling anxiety at not knowing if the Powers That Be will punish me by never letting us see each other again when we both, eventually, enter the World of the Dead.

"It's under the slide," I sniff, "at the elementary school on Broad Street. If you can leave the place you died, then you should be able to come back to me-"

You vanish before I even finish my sentence.

.

I'm trying to find a way back to you before it's too late. I can hear Them threatening me, telling me that I'll never see you again as I run as hard as I possibly can towards the place that will, hopefully, let me back into the land of the living.

I stumble over a curb when one of the deeper voices booms out in a powerful, yet peaceful soft, voice, "She must pay for all of the rules that she has broken over and over again. She must learn from her mistakes."

I can't let that happen to you. I have to protect you from these voices, from the power that each of their voices holds, from the chance that they might destroy you if they get the chance.

I'm almost there…

.

I'm trying not to hope too much. If I believe that there's a chance that I may get to see you alive again, and you don't reach the portal in time, I don't know how I'll be able to… I need a distraction, even if it's temporary.

When I climb up the tree you hung yourself from to untie you from the branch that killed us both, I hesitantly begin to think while still avoiding anything that may be too triggering for the time being. It isn't until your limp body is resting against the freezing ground, noose off, with myself sitting cross-legged beside it, that I really allow myself to delve into my thoughts without consequence.

I never imagined that there would be a chance that I would, willingly or not, live in a world without you beside me. I don't want that horrible, ungodly, torturous nightmare to have even a chance at becoming a reality. I don't know if I'll be able to live with myself if it becomes my punishment for how I went against the Powers That Be time and time again.

I don't think I'll be able to live with myself.

.

I'm trying to get back to you in time. I jumped head first into the floating, swirly portal without looking, and now I'm falling through darkness, and colours, and everything in between the two. I can't hear the powerful voices anymore, but that doesn't mean that They can't stop me. That doesn't mean that They can't keep me from ever being with you again. That doesn't mean that they can't-

.

I'm trying to hold in my startled noise of shock, and happiness, and relief. Your body jerks up with a gasp, you look around, and when you finally turn towards me, fully alive, tears begin to fall from your cheeks.

I throw my arms around you, feeling your warm body against mine. "You're alive!"

.

"And so are you."