Open your eyes, jump.

If Sean could read any of these things I write, his eyes would get all wet and wide and he'd look at me with relief seeming to say "you finally had the realization," or "you get it." He was always waiting for me to get it, but how hard is it to truly understand someone with a heart like his? Sometimes it seemed impossible, the way I slowly started losing faith in humanity and feeling so afraid of the world and what I had to do to survive in it. He saw me struggle to keep my pieces together, he was always there to remind me to keep it simple, listen to my heart. Sean had life figured out so well I don't think anyone around him quite understood his view. To a cynic it seemed childish, naive, vulnerable. In reality it is the only way to keep sane in such a terrifying world. Wouldn't it be so easy to simply be love, show love, give love, live a life embracing love and acceptance? Everything else would fall into place. His dream was waiting to be brought to life and nothing would stop it, he was a force of positivity to be reckoned with. My Messiah. I am shaken to my core with regret, anger, frustration, and pure hatred for the person I have been. There were times I was incapable of understanding his message and the dream we painted seemed abstract. I would always come to my senses eventually, but it kills me to know I caused him ANY grief or discomfort of any kind. Though I know someday I will have to forgive myself in my efforts to become the person I was in Sean's eyes, today I'm still living in step one.

I try to be productive, I have all the best intentions to do what I need to but "tomorrow" always seems more clear, more clean, a better bet at feeling alive again. Homework is piling up with the laundry and bills and I'm terrified at my refusal to move. I can't function, I keep trying but somehow my desperation to feel any relief, to feel at all, always results in a crash of the most incredible sadness I've ever known. I feel as if every atom in me is questioning its existence, and everything around me seems so momentary. How can we have any concept of time, progress, or prayer when Sean is the only thing I truly believed in, the only thing we knew as a sure thing? No matter how age, education or experience changed my mind about living I knew one thing for certain. I loved him, he loved me, we would end up together somehow because we saw our greatest dreams alive in each other. It seems unbelievable but we never fought, never argued, never didn't understand the distance or time we each needed to grow up and into minds of our own. That was true faith and I have yet to experience it any other way. So when they say it will take time, when I say I'll get it done tomorrow, it's all uncertain.

In 2005 and the summer after, Sean and I remained the same as the day we met... we never tried to label it, we didn't ask questions or complicate it, it just was. I knew his first year of high school didn't include me since I was a year behind and always felt he had a better mouse to chase somewhere. (He tried to convince me otherwise.) I still didn't believe in the girl he somehow saw, I felt like I was happy because he was and that I didn't deserve to feed off his beautiful soul. Depression again, the friends I was closest to moved or moved on while I tried so hard to make it in a new crowd. This age was brutal, all awkward and stumbling through transitions. I found trouble, it kept me distracted and numb so I went looking for more. Every time I saw Sean I forgot all of it and I was suddenly the person I wanted to be, but he didn't let me get away with it. I would hug him wrong and he would know I had been with Collin, the way he looked at me when I drew my arms back from around his neck... I hated it. He knew I was looking to get hurt and shook his head in disappointment when he smelled cigarettes under the perfume on my shirt. He only wanted the best for me and I wouldn't allow myself to have it, he'd turn to walk away still shaking his head and I would stand there sinking into the floor. I wanted to keep him so badly but I refused to take his light.

The year I entered high school he fought hard for me, he was the only thing that kept me sober, at least while I was with him. I was living with my grandparents while our house was being built and it placed me within a few blocks of the best of my worst acquaintances. I had a double life and kept my "party" friends and my real ones separated. One Thursday Sean and I planned on going to this park near Salt Lake, it was one of those warm, clear nights with a calm breeze but I couldn't feel it. I couldn't face him after seeing him at school, knowing he smelled the alcohol on my breath. I told him I couldn't anymore, that my parents said no. I hated myself for it, for everything and everyone else I had failed, so I crushed them into dust and got high. I counted the pills left in the bottle, just for fun... enough to kill me if I wanted. My phone rang and startled me, Sean called my bluff and had come over to see me. At first I panicked but when I ran outside barefoot and he picked me up to spin me around, it wasn't my bad habit that made me smile like I did. My legs were still wrapped around him when I stopped laughing and realized he was looking at me, quiet. Back to panic, he knew. How the hell did he know? He immediately put me down, took my hand and walked me away from the living room window that made us a television show. I held his hand loose and casual on the sidewalk, looking at the street light coming through the branches over our heads I tried to talk too much for a serious conversation to begin. He stopped, took my other hand forcing me to face him, he was mad. I felt my eyes get hot and my lip started to shake as he pulled me down to the sidewalk, he just sat down quietly, waiting. I was in front of him and wished to be invisible. "Why do you do this to yourself?" Tears rolled down my face. "I don't know, I don't know, I'm sorry..." He said not to be sorry, but that he wasn't going to watch me do this, I was beautiful, it was stupid, pointless, it wasn't fun and I knew it. "Just stop it, now. No more... Please." He was pleading for me, his heart was full and warm and beating so loud I swear I could hear it. My head felt heavy and it buzzed like radio static. How could he love me? He wore his injuries so beautifully, they scarred him with vibrant colors and monarch patterns; mine rendered me broken and flightless. He was brave, courageous, vigilantly aware of every one's pain and wholly willing to bear any burden he possibly could. I have met so many good people in this life but I have never witnessed a man with the capacity to give himself so completely to another in need. The extent of his heart and the strength of his service was unfathomable, he drenched everything he saw in pure golden love and no person was ever left in the shade. He did so entirely unaware that it was abnormal, that most souls were too desensitized to live or understand the way he did. I promised him then, at fifteen, that I wouldn't entertain the idea of suicide ever again.

I had the best boyfriend a girl could EVER ask for and I was absolutely, blissfully, stupidly happy. Crazy, spontaneous, stuck-like-glue young love totally took over and we didn't have one opposing thought about it. We met at the couches before school, my only reason for coming early was to see his eyes catch me coming up the stairs and both our faces would ignite with excited, full force, dimpled smiles. At lunch we'd escape campus with our rowdy crew, sometimes we didn't make it back. Sometimes we'd stick around and melt together on the blue cushions, counting how many times the school patrol walked by shaking his head at us, his arm around me, talking, laughing and putting mascara on Nics mustache. After school I'd nearly tackle him, he'd carry me on his back or pick me up like a new bride and sing embarrassingly loud to the parking lot while I kissed his cheeks and giggled the whole way. We had a class together, a lapse of judgement for whoever made the schedules. Interior Design, one of the easiest classes in high school, he sat directly behind me and we both failed. We passed elaborate notes with swirly labels and cheesy sketches, and somehow we always got thirsty at the same time. When the classroom was quietly at work I would turn in my seat before standing up and Seans head would shoot up from his paper with a mischievous grin on his face. I'd wink at him and wait five seconds outside the heavy metal door next to the drinking fountain, right as it closed he would push me against the wall and kiss me like we'd been waiting a lifetime. I was sixteen but I shared every fiber of my being with that boy and every day was a blessing to be alive. Moments stretched and the clock moved at glacier speeds just for us.

The day Sean realized how young and naive we were, he saw his heart in danger and put his hands up with walls too high to climb and backed away in surrender. I was totally crushed that someone who seemed so fearless could be afraid of me, I couldn't hurt him, I would never. The roles were flipped and I was in the line of fire, my weapons behind me, fighting bare fists and relentless to make him understand. It was three days: On the first, fear attacked him and between fight or flight, he only knew to fly. The second, I failed at talking him out of it, over and over again. The third, I walked up the steps to the couches early before school. I saw Sean facing Brady, his back coated in red and white plaid, his arm on the shoulder of girl he introduced me to the week before. I stood at the top step, turned, and walked away as quickly as I could. Like a movie scene I clung to my books and darted for the door, ready to make a mistake of bitter resentment and fleeting teenage emotion. I ran for shelter and revenge. I called my two best girls and they were in the parking lot of the high school blasting NWA by the time I reached the door. I left in that manner every day for weeks after that, blanketing my disappointment in a haze of smoke and everclear. I was back with Collin, spending nights at the garage, staying away from home where the school was calling about attendance. On a Monday, the second week of December, my simple careless life was swapped for one of chaos and confusion. How easy it was then to be rash and irrational, with no concept of anything temporary. By the end of that day I had taken it too far and then realized I was only making my situation worse instead of better and I would soon have a positive pregnancy test to prove it. That day I went home knowing if I didn't get myself in check I would get kicked out of my house and expelled from school.

I withdrew completely, no more boys, I focused on making up for my irresponsibility and tried to fall off the social radar. I didn't even realize what I had done until February. I was frustrated that despite my efforts I was spending my film class after lunch in the bathroom because the smell lingering in the hall made me sick. I made a trip to Walgreens, got a Gatorade, some gum, a test, and nervously gave the despondent cashier my money. She glanced up at me in my Springville High dance hoodie with tired eyes and I thought for a moment she'd shake her head with disgrace. Sean kept calling me, I never answered. I didn't see him at school any more but I understood why when my truancy finally caught up to me and I had to attend Plato, an after school make-up class. I walked in and felt sick again, the room was filled with people I knew and talked to every day but I only saw him smiling at Brady. I was so exhausted. I hadn't told a soul yet and had no idea what it meant to be a pregnant junior in high school. My mind was blank on the subject, it seemed so intangible, all a dream. Sean saw me walk in, I faked a slight smile before sitting down in front of him. I was ready to pretend I had been too swamped with work and dance to notice his missed calls and text messages. He pretended he didn't notice the pain on my face until class ended and we were safe outside. Grey covered everything, white vapor rose from our mouths as we walked silently to my car. I was holding my books like a shield again, head down watching our legs synchronously push through the cold air. He opened my door for me and I suggested we'd get our packets done faster together, he asked if he could come over. Following me on the way home, he would ride my bumper and swerve to the side of me at a stop sign with his ridiculous face pressed against the window. Laughing felt so estranged, but good, really good.

I grabbed my moms laptop and we sat at the island in my kitchen after dinner. I remember how well he dealt with being nervous, asking my parents about their days and complimenting my step dad on his steak. He'd been in the "hot seat" a thousand times before, but tonight somehow seemed more important to him. When we had made a dent in our science packet he inquired about the CD I made him, I got up to get it and suddenly heard the thud, thud, slide of his socks across the tile and his hands caught me at the hips. It felt amazing, his warm strong arms wrapped around my waist and his chin tickling my neck. He kissed my cheek while I held his arms to me, forgetting for a split second that he might notice the barely-there bump growing beneath my pierced belly button. It was March 15th, three months and I was paranoid that the changes to my 98 pound body were obvious. I threw his hands off me and spun around grinning and challenging to deflect his attention. I threw light, coy punches to his abs and said something clever about how he thought he was so smooth. He was smiling so big, I didn't know that the girl I saw him with months earlier only stuck around a week and we had spent all this time missing each other for nothing. "Oh, really?" He said "You don't think so? Girl I'm smooth as butta." I had my hands clenched and raised to my face the way my dad had shown me, never leave a weak spot. I laughed and took a few steps back as he playfully sparred with me. I blocked every shot with my arms but when my right foot hit the stair rail behind me and I saw one coming for my stomach I gasped, threw myself backward and before I could stop myself I was saying "NoNoNoNO." He looked at me, bewildered, I usually gave him a run for his money when we sparred and wrestled like this. He turned his head slightly, eyes narrow, a thin half faced smirk on his lips. I quickly stuttered "I-I just... no body shots..." Feeling stupid I spun around on one heel and headed down the stairs, he followed with a mocking "UH HUUH." We sat back down in the kitchen to listen to the CD while we finished our work. I pressed play and opened the word document, ready to type what he read to me. Sean had other plans. He grabbed the laptop and turned it to face him. He pressed two keys and turned it back to me, we were passing notes again. I shook my head then my smile faded when I saw a single question mark on the screen. I knew I owed him an explanation. I opened my mouth then closed it again, wrinkled my nose and looked at him like "do I have to?" He looked at me, understanding, and watched me touch the keys while I spelled my confession so I didn't have to press them onto the screen. He was making it easy for me, he already knew. I pointed to each letter, P-R-E-G-N-A-N-T. He looked at me, almost smiling and I wondered just what the hell was so amusing. He raised one eyebrow and I knew he was asking if he were in trouble even though he knew darn well he couldn't be. I shook my head and couldn't control my wide, terrified eyes studying his reaction. He asked, he knew who was involved without asking, so he knew I was totally alone... now what? He turned the laptop toward him again, all the way so I couldn't see. I had no idea what to think or expect when a few seconds later he turned it back to me and rested his chin on his fist, his elbow on the table, and waited. "Can I keep you?" I could feel the most intensely confused face appear on myself and almost yelled "WHAT?!" His head flipped over his shoulder and back again as if someone might have overheard our entire silent conversation. I was shocked. Confused, impossibly boggled, speechless. He just sat there twiddling his thumbs, waiting for an answer. When I sat too long scrunching my eyes and nose, shaking my head in absolute bewilderment, he got up to stretch and impatiently tapped his fingers on the back of my chair. I stood up on my knees in my seat to meet him face to face. He was looking around, nonchalantly whistling, pretending not to notice for a moment until I took his face in my hands and shook my head up and down so fast a tear fell out of my wet eyes. He wiped it away before kissing me. That was that; signed, sealed, delivered. We'd do it the hard way because what else is really worth the fight?

Refuse, deny, breathe, write.

I stayed away from this until yesterday, I hate that my only option now is pictures and words. If you know me you know I hate painting emotions on a social canvas, but until writing my tears to death no longer works, I guess everyone will hear about it. I can't think of any other way to get this out, I have so much regret I would be a fool not to follow the urge to write what I've felt. There's just no expressing it, not really, not in a way that could ever satisfy me. I just can't deny my screaming insides. How long have I gone ignoring the urge, the voices, the promptings? To write him a note, make him a CD, listen to him, make a change, capture moments, retrace my steps, remember, cherish him. And I still do it, I deny my instant, instinct thoughts that flow to my fingers because they may not be correct or make any sense. I don't care. I will not second guess myself any more. As far as I am concerned, this expressions only flaw is that it is too late. This is Step One, denial. Do I know the second step? At this point, no. Never will I ever.

For a week before the day my world came undone, random things had been happening that gave me a sense of unease. Sean and I spent every day and night for two weeks together when he got back from Texas, and decided we were going to be better than ever (Officially) Then, the second week of the fall semester came and made a wave in our waters. I got stressed and everything seemed chaotic. In every social setting I tried to place myself in I felt lost, I wanted to go home before I even left. In my easy, laid back classes I felt hopeless, I became the desk in the back nearest the door. At work my interactions were forced, I was extremely anxious to get through each night as routine: Smile, listen, agree. I was as genuine as a robot and I could feel it, I isolated myself desperately trying to figure out what it was this time that I had to figure out in my head. I went to the gym by myself one night to clear my head and my ipod played three Letter Kills songs from the same album, on shuffle. I hadn't heard those songs or any from Letter Kills in years, my ipod is always on shuffle so with everything else going on this was more than random. Those of you who knew him best will understand the significance.

When Sean was in Texas working we were constantly talking; texting, calling each other with random stories, pictures of each other, houses he liked and sunsets that inspired us. We sent a song assignment every day to listen to, sometimes whole play lists. He'd say "we should choreograph a dance to this," or "this came on in the car and reminded me how much I love you...for the thousandth time this morning." I missed him so much and was so excited for him to come home. He had a camping trip with his family the day after he got back and I thought I'd have to wait even longer to see him, but I was relieved that he had time to himself with family. No ruthless heat and humidity, no walking in the rain with sole-less shoes. No more walking for miles to find a place to fill his water bottle or hitch-hiking in a dangerous city. Sean had me thinking he and Sadie would drive from the airport to Mt. Pleasant without stopping to see me in Orem. He surprised me at work with flowers. He's such a romantic. I couldn't adequately describe how intensely happy and in love with him I felt. We planned a weekend vacation to park city after his Montana trip, and seriously considered eloping in Vegas... I can not understand why, after two weeks of him being back I suddenly felt lost and told him something was wrong but I didn't know what. I had too many responsibilities on my plate to think clearly. He blamed himself for not having everything "set up" here, I could not have cared less about that. We could be homeless, starving, broke, it didn't matter. But I couldn't get out of my own head, I took that last week for granted, I wasted it away. Call it depression or stress... all it is now is painful regret. It is by far the worst pain I have ever known. There are hours I dwell in each day when I wish I could cease to exist.

Sean Michael Halladay and I met in 2004 on a windy day in August... We count this as the day we met because it struck the two of us so hard it felt a lot like fate. I remember it was windy because as I walked through the doors of the Jr.High I struggled to fix my hair with one hand, my other was gripping my latest "boyfriends."(I was thirteen and not to be taken seriously) It was after school hours, I had been at the skate park across the street and realized I left my phone inside. We walked east and when I looked up a tall handsome boy with football gear slung over his shoulder was walking west and staring right at me. I immediately tried to fix my facial expression and not be seen drooling. Let me explain that this was my "rebel" phase, with my dark clothes and bangs in my face... And this boy struck me as an overly handsome and consequently overly confident "jock" when he disregarded the boy at my left ENTIRELY and exposed his perfect beautiful smile with a "Hey! How are you?" I was later told that was a huge accomplishment for him, and that he was actually very shy around girls. (Hard to believe, right?)  I remember every time we told someone how we met, he would tell them how I broke his heart with my cold look and lack of response, how I gave him a "death look" and kept walking. But then he would quickly add, "and all I wanted was to meet the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen, I just HAD to get her attention." Sean has this way of telling someone else a story but telling me all over again, he'd get to certain parts and look down at me with those shining eyes reminding me how it felt to find him. No matter how many times he told the story it felt like an announcement we couldn't wait to make to make.

That was a Friday, I was surprisingly not grounded and allowed to have a "sleep over" at a friends, meaning we went looking for trouble with our much older friends. At that time in my life my choice of company was destructive and my emotional well being was unhealthy. That Friday night I drank until I was extremely sick and eventually passed out, then in the morning I ended things with that much older boy I shouldn't have ever been with. I didn't value my life or love myself, I spent most of Sunday locked in my room considering checking out entirely before monday came. But, monday came and when I walked down the steps after school I saw my friend Brady Rawlings across the street, he yelled "PAIGEUMS!!"and I instantly felt a little better and ran over to give him a hug. I had never said much to his friend Nic but I will always remember as I hugged Brady he took inventory of my attire and said "Oh, I have skulls on my shoes and holes in my pants, I'm so hardcore." I spun around with a wicked glare for him and there was Sean, standing right next to Nic, hands in his pockets, looking the opposite direction, half smiling and totally uninterested in what was happening. A few weeks later my friend Tesha had started to date Nic and I saw Sean again at her house.

We were all standing in her front yard playing hacky-sac and goofing around. Brady and I had been wrestling and laughing but I had been watching Sean the entire time and was very annoyed that he was making such an effort not to notice me at all. I was so intrigued by him. The way he seemed so anxious to meet me and now refused to glance at me even though I was staring at him. I knew, he knew, for the first time I was aware of my misjudgement and wanted more than anything to fix the person I shot back at him that day he gave me the perfect first impression. He was laughing at Nic and Tesha, I walked over, stood three inches from him and said "Hey, you can talk to me you know, I won't bite." He looked at me confused, smiled, laughed, looked at Brady behind me and continued to look confused for a few seconds. I felt so awkward staring at him waiting for a reply... He was so beautiful. His eyes were still on Brady directly behind me and I lost myself watching his eyes light up and his grin strech across his dimpled cheeks, before I knew it I was slung over Seans shoulders and spinning around in the blur of green grass and his white skate shoes. Every day after that one seemed to work perfectly in our favor. I thought about him all day and ran across the street after school to meet our group. Weekends consisted of Nic, Tesha, Brady, Sean and I having sleepovers on Talia's trampoline, going to the reservoir, watching movies and boxing in Bradys basement, getting kicked out of every grocery store in Springville, Provo and Spanish Fork. We always had so much fun, I was constantly being picked up and slung over someone's shoulder, I laughed and was genuinely happier than ever and it seemed like I finally found a place I fit. Brady and Sean always joked about who "got me first" but everyone knew, it was obvious.

One night in October the four of us had been babysitting Talia's nieces and nephews. Nic and Tesha had gone somewhere, and Sean and I were left sitting on the ground in her aunts living room. I was only a block away from my house but I spent most nights there because I hated to be home, especially alone in my room. Sean was sitting indian-style and I was hugging my knees in front of him talking about my crazy childhood and asking about his. We exposed our weaknesses, fears and struggles... As we talked he put my cold feet under his crossed legs, we looked at each other and knew these were things we didn't share lightly, or with anyone else at all. Trust was something we were conditioned to lack, something dangerous, but I wasn't afraid when he pulled me closer and kissed me. It was an introduction to perfection. I trusted him, it was a clique emotion like butterflies and I was hooked like a fish. From that night we couldn't look at each other without smiling or walk without holding hands. One saturday night we went to a haunted forest. My first "date," I remember what he wore, what I wore, and over everything I remember his laugh. From beginning to end I heard him laughing and saw his "Ooohh man" face more clearly than anything. He was such a sissy, pushing me ahead into doorways and picking me up to run from someone behind him. On Halloween he and I sat in the backseat of Nics car holding hands, whispering, smiling... I could see Nics eyes in the rearview as he said "God you two are cute. Hey, keep your hands where I can see them!" Tesha turned laughing and made fun of us. I squoze his hand three times. I hadn't taught him what that meant yet.

We didn't have to try to spend all of our time together, it just happened. It was gravity, magnetic, inevitable. He came to see me on Thanksgiving and I ran outside barefoot in snow to jump in his arms because I missed him so much. He always made fun of me for prancing around without shoes and half the time he had to force me to wear his jacket because I never remembered one. He was always so warm. The nights we would insist on sleeping on the trampoline, Nic and Tesha would always run inside freezing but we stayed until the sun came up. Although we were young, we understood so much about what was happening. This was so real. No games, no questions. Just easy, lucky, free. We knew each other completely, Sean understood why I made the mistakes I had and could always predict the ones I would make again. To be with someone and know their past, thrive in their presence, see the patterns that will compose their future and have it be so incredibly easy to mold yourself to their lives... knowing that we already forgave each other for what would happen, knowing we would be adrift at times but never alone. Neither of us had to say a word, no matter what our connection was so strong we simply knew. Over the course of a few months we had become permanent, necessary, irreplacable love that would continue to grow, mature, deepen and become truly unconditional.