Losing a Soulmate | Teen Ink

Losing a Soulmate

January 22, 2016
By Caroline McCormack SILVER, Wyckoff, New Jersey
Caroline McCormack SILVER, Wyckoff, New Jersey
6 articles 0 photos 0 comments

The summer of seventh grade my best friend moved away. I knew it was coming, but when the final day came I was still unprepared.

I woke up and got ready for school like any other day. I brushed my teeth and put on clothes, tied the laces on my Converse and rode the bus. It was raining. Not a drizzle, but fat drops falling from the sky. The atmosphere was dark, all sunlight hidden by clouds.

I arrived at school and looked for my friend. Old friends I no longer recognized passed by, and fake friends smiled and waved. Still no friend.

My friend had taught me how to breathe again, and I loved him. Without him, I ceased to exist. I went from someone, to no one. Whenever I went to the dark place, friend brought me back with kindness and smiles. I was there for friend, and friend was there for me. That was how it had been since the beginning.

Finally I saw him. Everyone else was a blur except for him, and I ran to close the distance like I had so many times before but would never do again. My arms wrapped around him, and I squeezed tightly and inhaled. I relaxed, but the impending situation set in and my arms went limp.


We said no more. Like so many times before, silence was enough. Just the presence of one another was enough to make us feel better. Words were disposable.

Side by side we walked to class. Close enough to feel the heat radiating off one another, but not touching. We entered our last English class together and sat, side by side.

“Caroline?” He whispered.

I looked him in the eyes, “Yes?”

“Will you do something for me?”

“Of course.”

“Will you read my letter?”

I exhaled sharply. At the beginning of the year we wrote letters to our future selves and sealed them to be read on the last day of school. Jack’s was personal. He trusted me to read his secrets and wishes. There was a message waiting for me in that letter, and I would open it with my own as a dismal edition of myself.

“I’d be honored,” I promised with a smile, swallowing the pressure building in my throat. He smiled back, and the class continued.

The final goodbye happened at the end of the day. The bell rang and I sprinted through the halls, pushing people aside while searching for my friend. I found him and the tears began to flow. He hugged me and said, “It will be okay.”

“I can’t survive without you.” I felt my heart collapse.

“You can. You’re stronger than you think.”

I laughed, my body shaking as I broke down. “What if I never see you again?”

“I’m not worried you know, about us.”


“Because I know I’ll see you again one day.” I pulled him in and hugged him with all the force I had in me. All the pain, memories, sorrow, and hope. This was our goodbye.

“I’ll always be here for you,” he promised as he pulled away. “This goodbye is temporary, but our friendship is permanent.”

I nodded, my speech stolen by sorrow. As students left the building oblivious to the scene unfolding, I watched my heart tear from my body and abandon me.

They say goodbyes are the hardest.

But what comes after is the worst.

Without my friend, I was alone. Months dragged on and the loss was everywhere. I became numb to the world, and to the people inside of it. Jack would always be my best friend, but distance changed us. No matter how hard we tried, the impact of space was inevitable. The gap could not be overcome.

I’ve always had an impulse to self destruct, and without Jack I finally did. They say when there’s nothing left to burn, douse yourself in gasoline and wait for the flames to set you on fire.

So I did.

The author's comments:

I tried to write this piece in an Ernest Hemingway style.

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