Epilogue

Ya' know, I can still remember that text she sent me. When she told me she was late, I asked her what she meant; we hadn't planned to be anywhere that day. She told me what was going on, and my heart sank to my gut, just as anyone's would. I remember walking into the house; I came straight inside as if I could help her in some way. I didn't find her there immediately, but she knew I had entered.

I remember her coming around that corner - I can still picture how red and swollen her eyes were. I can still feel her tear-stained face buried into my chest. She said it out loud for the first time, and her voice shuddered. I remember how we sat down, how I held her tightly as we rocked back and forth for a while. Her fur was so soft.

"Silver, you won't leave me, will you?"

"Blaze, look at me. I'm willing to go as far along with this as you are. We're in this together."

I remember how I dropped everything. I put almost everything I had up for sale (which wasn't much). I probably did more commissions over the next half-year than I had in the previous two full ones. Blaze became very sick after a while, but she worked through it all. She was so strong.

I remember how we struggled a little in preparation; we still hadn't told any of our friends the news. I eventually rectified that, and they were as supportive as they could've been from hundreds of miles away. We were fine, of course. As fine as we could've been.

I remember all those nights alone with her, not knowing what the future would hold. We'd just kinda' snuggle together, talk about life. I guess we realized that no matter what happened, we would still have each other for as long as life would allow, and we would manage knowing that. Sometimes, when it's quiet at night, I still torture myself by imagining life without her. I guess it makes me all the more happy in the morning, when I wake up next to her.

I remember that day at the hospital, when they told us our little guy didn't have a heartbeat. We were so dumbstruck that it took us a moment to realize what the doctor had said. That wasn't part of the plan. It wasn't even a thought. Of course the baby will be born. How could our child be taken from us before it's even here? We were so flawlessly prepared for anything - anything in the world - but that. That was the first time I had seen Blaze cry since Miss Kay's death. And make no mistake, reader, I cried all night as well.

I remember going home so vividly - the air in the house felt different in my lungs. I felt heavier, like the world had shifted to alter gravity itself. The curtains were open, as if to welcome the sunshine in, but it was cloudy that day. That was probably the last thing on our minds, anyways. Everything was secondary to the numbness we felt.

For whatever reason, we sat in the room we had set up for our son, empty crib and freshly-decorated walls and all. S-I-L-K was spelled out in purple lettering above the window. Things didn't work out as smoothly as his name. Blaze and I just sat there for hours, playing cards on the floor like we did when we were kids. "Why us?" we asked, over and over again. We never really got an answer.

Half that time was spent talking on the phone about things we didn't want to hear. Everyone back in New York said how sorry they were, how they wished they could help. With each passing ringtone, Blaze looked to me and shuddered. I answered all of those calls, and took the conversations outside to thank everyone for their thoughts. We could've done without them, truthfully. Blaze hugged me each time I re-entered the room.

That really changed her. I'm not sure why that was ever a shock to me, but Blaze hasn't been the same since then. And that's not necessarily a bad thing; she's much more relaxed now. I think it gave both of us a greater appreciation for not only life itself, but also the kind of life we live. For all the hardships we thought we had been through, they all seemed insignificant after that.

I remember how I proposed to her later on, at the end of the pier one night. Yeah, ocean breeze and all. I could never see myself being such a romantic for anyone but her. I even got on one knee, gave a little speech. She laughed at me, and told me to stand up.

"Is that a yes?"

"Are you kidding me?"

I remember our wedding night, how nervous I felt. We got married back in New York, in the then-empty apartment we once shared, just to rectify all the negative feelings we had about that place. Of all my life's experiences, that one still feels the most surreal. It was like a dream I'd had a thousand times over - she walked up to me, we said our vows, we kissed, and it was official. Nobody was there but us and our friends, who all still lived on the same floor. Rouge married us.

We never wanted a child after that. We had felt hard done by, then felt excited, then felt like the world was ending all in the span of nine months. It was over a year later when we got married, but it still stung. It hurts now, too. We didn't want there to be any chance of that happening again. Maybe one day we'll change our minds, but for now, we'll just stay Silver and Blaze.

We're closing in on forty now, as are most of our friends from New York. They've all left there by now. Sonic moved down here many years ago, although he doesn't stay home much. He's kind of a big deal now, I can't really help but feel jealous of him. Tails is his agent, so he stays on the road with Sonic a lot. Everyone else moved away as well, but I haven't kept up with them much. People drift after a while, I guess.

You may be asking, reader, what the point is in writing to you again. And truth be told, I don't know. I only recently began to look back at what I wrote all those years ago, and I laugh at many of the things I said. Some of it was true, some of it wasn't, and I've changed my opinion on a lot of things since then. It was such a simplistic, naïve view of the world. A lot of the things I said were true, don't get me wrong, but after all that Blaze and I have been through since then, I don't think life is so simple anymore.

Sometimes, you have to try really hard to keep yourself happy. And that's okay. Sometimes, you have to be sad for a while. And that's okay. Sometimes, you can't find the bright side of a situation, because there is none. And that's okay. I now think life is just full of coming up with new ways to distract ourselves from sadness. And that's what my writing was to me. Art was causing me sadness, and when your distractions start to cause you sadness, it's called depression. It's okay to be depressed. I want to make that clear.

I've been sad a lot lately. You surely must remember how proactive I am, reader, and I've just felt insignificant for the longest time. Like I've never helped anyone. Like I've never inspired anyone. I tend to forget the people closest to me when that happens. Of course Blaze tells me I'm a great artist. Of course my friends tell me I've made an impact on the community. Because they have to, right? Because they want to see me happy again. All of that just made me feel worse, because it felt like my sadness became a burden they were having to bear. It was such a lonely feeling, like everyone close to me was just lying to make me happy. That obviously wasn't the case, but sadness tends to distort reality like that. I kept sinking further and further.

I thought about the negatives a lot. All the scrap paintings I threw away. All the times people passed by my pieces without giving them a look. The time I tried to open up an online shop for my art - yes, I really did that - and I had to close it because I didn't get a single buyer other than Sonic. Not a single one. That was probably the lowest I had felt since that day at the hospital. How crazy is that, comparing death to life? But it's true.

From that, I've realized something important. It's that you really have to dig deep to keep yourself happy sometimes, because if you look at the surface of anything, you can spin a headline to make it sound bad. I had forgotten all the joy those paintings gave me. All the compliments I had ever gotten because of my art. All the people who had told me I was an inspiration to them - including Sonic, someone I hold in the highest regard. I forgot all of that, because it's easier to hold on to negative experiences. We remember them more vividly, because negative emotions are so much stronger than positive ones. It... well, it sucks. But that's how things are. It's frustrating.

You have to dig deeper to find the happy memories. And I just wasn't digging at all. Once I did, I started feeling better, even though it's hard to swallow a lot of the pills I've been prescribed. Make no mistake, reader, that isn't a cure-all. Everyone has negative memories. Everyone feels sad because of them. It's okay to do that. Whether or not you choose to dig deeper, whether or not you can dig deeper, it's okay. But you have to - and I mean it when I say it - you have to stay true to yourself in those times. Even if you feel like you're not doing your best, the best you can do is be you.

That's really what I'm here to say. Regardless of the advice I give you, regardless of the things I say now, regardless of the things I used to say, you have to be yourself, reader. Maybe that's why I'm here writing again, because I don't think I made that clear either. Or I didn't say how important it was. Because if you forget who you are, you'll just be some central silhouette in all those negative memories lingering in your mind. And that's not a good thing. It's easy to take advice from people, it's easy to let them shape the way you think, it's easy to lean on them for validation. The hard part is finding self-worth, and telling yourself that you matter, even when memories or statistics show you otherwise.

Feels like old times, doesn't it? Just you, and me, and a wall of text.

I hope I've given you something to think about, reader. That's all I ever tried to do. Whether I agree with the things I used to say or not, I found my happy place here. Just a distraction from life. Surely you've grown into your own person by now - perhaps you don't even remember our little journey. But I hope I was able to distract you from life as well, for that would be the kindest of mutualistic relationships. And if that's the greatest impact I'll ever have on this world, so be it. At least I can say I tried.

Farewell, reader. And rest assured that the wonderful memories from our time together have not yet faded in my heart, nor will they ever. Years and years on, I can only hope you remember Silver with the same fondness that I remember you with. No matter which way life pushes or pulls us, Blaze and I will continue fighting, and I encourage you to do the same.