[ CW ] Kill the writer in first-person narrative .

I wish I had more time. 
 
 I wish I could have had dinner with you one more time. I wish we could have walked on the beach one more time, like we planned. 
 
 No, I'll be honest; you never liked it, because you did n't like the way the sand got in your sandals, and worked its way under the mats in your car until the whole thing was gritty and smelled like seaweed. You did n't like the wind, or the sun, or the wet, you did n't like the way the sea chased and lapped at our heels as I ran, laughing, away from the waves, and you followed behind me. But you came anyway, because I asked you to. And to tell you the truth, I only went because I thought it was something couples should do, because I was new, and lonely, and I did n't know what would make you love me. 
 
 I wish I could have held you one more time. I wish we could have watched movies, and ate popcorn off the couch because we spilled it, and stayed under the blankets until the sun rose. I wish we could have spent another weekend inside, and had pizza for two days in a row because neither of us wanted to leave, and answered the door half-naked and embarassed. And when I told you, flushed and breathless, that I thought we were wasting time, I wish you could have kissed me one more time, I wish you could have stroked me and held me until nothing mattered anymore except us, alone and apart from the world. 
 
 I wish we could have fought one more time. I wish you would have told your roommates you were gay. I wish you would have been brave enough, I wish that you would have believed me when I said it did n't matter what they thought, and that pain was n't the end of the world. I wish you would have gotten angry, one more time. I wish we would have fought about asking you to work, about my weight, about your hair, about my parents, about your friends, about my hobbies. 
 
 I wish you would have left. 
 
 In this frozen moment, I wish you were n't here. I wish you were n't beside me in the car. I wish you had n't listened when I said we should try it again. Maybe I would have paid more attention to the road. 
 
 Maybe we would n't have driven, late, and the moon on the road would have shone on someone else's car. Someone else's wheels would have slipped on the ice. Someone else's hands would have locked on the wheel. Someone else would have looked up, into the headlights. Someone else would have heard the crunch of metal. Someone else would have felt the glass inside their stomach. Someone else would have seen the seat beside them collapsed and crushed, would have seen the trickle of blood running down the arm, would have smelled the bile and seen the chunks of flesh still raw and bleeding scattered across the car. 
 
 You told me once, half-jokingly, that you could see us dying together, and my silence told you everything you needed to know. 
 
 But I wish we had more time.
