Dear Clark

Dear Clark,

This morning feels heavy. I didn't sleep well. I tossed, turned, woke up too early, and drifted back into shallow sleep. When I opened my eyes, you were the first thought on my mind. It's always you.

But tonight, I am writing to you from a hospital bed. A few hours ago, I thought I was having an ordinary day. I met up with my girl friend around 12:30 PM, and we ate at Yabu. I ordered the smallest serving, yet even that felt too much for me. My appetite has been fading more and more these days. Maybe it's the stress. Maybe it's the heaviness of my heart. Food doesn't taste the same without you. Even when I try, I can't seem to finish what's in front of me.

After lunch, we went to try this ninja bounce activity. It was supposed to be fun, a chance for me to laugh and forget about everything for a little while. I even rode that bicycle that worked like a roller coaster. For a moment, I felt alive, like I was doing something different. But soon, the dizziness came. It was my body reminding me of its fragility.

Still, I tried to brush it off. We grabbed milk tea afterward and talked like nothing was wrong. My friend didn't see the storm brewing inside me, or maybe she chose not to mention it. Around 5:30 PM, we parted ways, and I thought I could just go home and rest. But instead, my driver had to rush me to the hospital. My blood count had dropped too low again. Now here I am, confined, waiting for tomorrow when I can finally go home.

Clark, the first thought that came to me when they brought me here was you. If you were here, I know you would've been the one to bring me. You would've held my hand tightly, looked at me with those steady eyes, and told me everything was going to be okay. You had this way of making me believe it, even when everything inside me was falling apart. I can almost hear your voice telling me to breathe, to be strong, to hold on.

But tonight, there is no hand to hold. No voice to calm me. Just the coldness of the hospital sheets, the beeping of machines, and the heaviness in my chest that refuses to leave. I thought I could distract myself today, that I could pretend I was fine for a few hours. But my body and heart reminded me that I'm not fine without you.

Clark, I miss you so much. It's a kind of missing that doesn't go away, no matter how much I try to bury it. I carry it with me when I wake up in the middle of the night, when I eat, when I sit quietly, when I laugh with friends. Even in those brief moments when I try to act normal, my heart whispers your name like a song I can't stop hearing. You are everywhere, even when you are nowhere near me.

Do you ever think of me, Clark? Do you remember the times I used to get dizzy, how you would check on me making sure I was okay? Do you still think of those nights when you would stay with me on the phone until I fell asleep, whispering goodnight as if it were the most important ritual in the world? Because for me, it was. Those small things were everything. They were proof that someone cared.

Now, all I have are memories. They come to me in fragments, like little flashes of light in the dark. They are comforting and cruel at the same time. Comforting because they remind me of the love we shared, cruel because they remind me that you're not here anymore.

I know you've chosen a life without me in it. And I'm trying so hard to accept that, but nights like this make it impossible. Nights when I am sick, fragile, scared. Those are the nights when the truth hits me the hardest. The truth that the person I want by my side the most is the person I can't have anymore.

I wonder what you would say if you could see me right now. Would you tell me to stop crying? Or would you just hold me quietly, the way you sometimes did when words weren't enough? I think about that a lot, how sometimes, love wasn't in the words but in the silence, in the way you stayed close even when I had nothing to say.

I'm scared, Clark. Not of dying, but of living like this, of living without you, of living with this sickness, of living with this constant ache in my chest. I'm not afraid of death. What I'm afraid of is living in pain, living without you.

Tonight, as I lie here in this hospital bed, I wish more than anything that I could go back to the times when I felt safe in your love. If I could live in that moment forever, I would. Because it was the happiest days of my life, and losing you has been the greatest pain I've ever known.

I don't know what tomorrow will bring, Clark. Maybe I'll go home and pretend to be okay again. But tonight, in the quiet of this hospital room, I can't pretend. Tonight, I can only be honest: I am tired, I am hurting, and I miss you more than words can ever say.

I love you, Clark. I always have, and I always will. No matter where you are, no matter who you are with, no matter how much time passes, my heart belongs to you.

Always,
Alyssa (Phineas, Arlo, Fifi, and Mang)

Last updated on:2025-08-23T02:53:03+05:30