You know that feeling you get when you have to say goodbye to someone? Like every letter that eaves your mouth is another part of you being ripped away from your body. And you hold on to them with everything you’ve got because there’s always that small fear in the back of your head that this could be the last time you ever see them. The last time you’d ever get to hold their hand, or cry on their shoulder, or tell them how much you love them.

It’s a sort of gut wrenching sadness that just bubbles up from some deep well inside you, that makes every goodbye seem like the last. It always makes you wonder if you did everything you wanted to do that day, or said everything that you need to say to them. Or if you remembered to give them back that thing they kept leaving over at your house, or if you told them enough times that you loved them.

It’s not something you can control, but rather something that controls you, taking over your body and making you second guess everything you’ve done with them today, and making sure that it was the right thing to do. Did you end up going to the park like you promised? Did you bring them that book they’ve been waiting to read or have you made the plans to see that play they’ve wanted to see since they were even able to understand words?

Sometimes, you realize that you didn’t do everything you needed to before that last goodbye was said, and it weighs down on your heart, like a giant stone. You find out that you never went to the park, never got the book, never saw the play, and now it’s too late. Sometimes, even though you wish, with every ounce of your being, that this wasn’t it, that it was all some horrific nightmare, and that you’re ready to wake up at any moment, back in the arms of the one you love- that they’d be there to wash away the bad with their hugs and their kisses- this isn’t a dream. This is reality, and the cold, bitter truth is, they’re gone. And there’s nothing you can do about it.

Now, I could go and make this some tragic love story about a heroic prince on his last quest, or some trashy teen novel about how the vampire coveted the young beauty, but I’m not. Instead, all I’m going to tell you the cold hard truth, exactly the way I learned it. So if you wanted some love story about a pedophiliac vampire and a sullen moody teenage girl, kindly toss this aside for someone who actually enjoys a good story, and go get a copy of Midnight September. Otherwise, stick around, I’ve got a hell of a story to tell.