the happiest sad ending

It was then, but it is now. Then and now, there's been no changes. I love her as if it was the first day I met her, the first time we talked. I was certain I was dreaming, and with her I would have asked everyone to not wake me up.From the diary of a dreamer I look out on a cold, distant world of such cold and Grey uncaring. From the diary of a dreamer I write my story in bitter ink. It is a strong formula, one made of vitrol, black dye, tears and broken feelings. The perfect ink in which to write in the diary of a dreamer. It will never fade.I remember my first friend. He was an imaginary duck named Willard. He would follow me around and quack around the blacktop as my classmates stood and stared. It was fine. I was used to it. I had my duck and, in my mind it was the most real thing to me. It was even more real then my friends and family and classmates. They lied, they put on masks, they hid, the fought. It was a meeting of those with an acute fear of themselves with others with the same disabilty. But Willard, he never lied. He never wore a mask. He never hid. He never fought. He just followed along, quacking and listening to everything I told him intently. Once in a while, when things were really bad he would attempt to hug me, his shining white feathers encircling me. I asked him to stop. I had touch atrophy. It had been so long since human contact that the slightest touch would feel wierd or out of place.And now I write a final chapter in my diary of a dreamer. For I am a dreamer. I dream only when I am awake for sleep is the only solace I have from myself. I dream of duck's, I dream of kiss from a lover, I dream of her. The saddest thing about a dream is that it ends. As do all things but dreams have significance. You can't touch a dream, feel a dream, see a dream, but you know when you've had one. And she was my dream. And just like a dream she was insubstantial so I could never touch her, she was distanced, not from me but from herself so I could not know her, and she was conflicted. And just like a dream I could not touch her, could not feel her, could not see her, but I know she was there. She was my dream, my sweet dream that lingered long after awakening.I feel no great sadness for dreams pass, that is their nature. And for the slightest moment, the slightest bit of hope entered in my life. And for that I thank her. Even though she had decieved me and herself I thank her. I want her to be happy, as she has made me happy. Would that I would wish evil or bad upon her for ending this dream. I wish her well. May the sun always be at her back, may she live the life she deserves, may she always carry an untroubled smile and may she be always rewarded for the moment of happiness she has granted this dreamer. For it was one moment of happiness. One moment of happiness for all of a man's life. Isn't that enough to last?