A/N: I was listening to "Amelia" by Tonight Alive and then this story just kind of came to me. If you listen to the song then you'll see what I mean. Anyway, enjoy.

I can't believe it's been exactly one year since it happened. It seems like just yesterday when we were celebrating your 26th birthday. I remember the look on your face when I told you that you had to wait before you could open your present. You looked so pissed I couldn't help laughing.

No one could have expected what was meant to be a great day to turn into the worst thing imaginable. Just thinking about it hurts so much, yet it's impossible not to think about it. I remember every single detail: the shoes you were wearing, the conversation we had been having just two minutes prior (it was about pizza toppings of course), the colour of the car that hit you…I want to forget. I don't want to have to hear the sickening crunch of metal play over and over again in my mind. But at the same time, if I do forget then it's like I'm forgetting a part of you and I need to hang onto every single memory that I have.

The paramedics' words still echo around in my head: "Dead at the scene", "We can't save him", "Time of death 11:32pm". It was at that point when everything around me got torn apart. I had screamed at them to do something, anything that could possibly bring you back. I completely broke down. I couldn't think properly, I could barely speak properly. All I could see was you. I barely even registered the pair of arms that pulled me back or the repeated words of "please be calm". None of it even mattered because you weren't there anymore. My best friend, the most important person in my life, had been taken away from me. How could anyone have expected me to remain calm?

They say that time is a healer but I fail to see how that works. I think about you every second of every day. Every night that I go to bed I imagine you kissing me goodnight. I imagine your minty breath from just brushing your teeth, the way your stubble gently tickled my cheek. I imagine you putting your arms around me and intertwining your legs with mine before drifting off to sleep. Maybe if I imagine it hard enough then it will come true, just for one moment. I know it's useless but I can't help myself. I loved you more than life itself. I only had to see something that reminded me of you to feel happy. I loved the way that I could be myself around you all the time without being judged, the way you made me feel special, the videos we made together, the surprise hugs from behind…I could continue this list forever.

I shouldn't dwell on these things too much because it's just a painful reminder of what's missing. You made my life complete and without you I just feel like an empty shell. I barely laugh anymore because you were the one who made me laugh. I hate eating because eating lunch with you was one of my favourite things to do. I hate going to bed each night because you're no longer there with me.

My friends say I should get some professional help to try and move on but what use will that do? It doesn't matter what any random therapist tells me; it's not going to bring you back. I don't want to move on. I don't want to find someone else. There is no one else. I can't replace the man that I spent sixteen years of my life with. I just can't.

I know that it's slightly weird but sometimes I spend hours going through your stuff, to remind myself of you. I can still smell your familiar scent on your pillow. It calms me down sometimes. Other times it makes me burst into tears. I haven't removed the clothes in your closet because I can't bring myself to do that. It reassures me when I open it and see your shirts and jeans hanging there. It almost feels like even though you're not here anymore, you never even left the house. I turn on the TV sometimes and put on one of your favourite shows. I don't actually watch it; I just listen to the background noise while I'm in another room. I pretend that you're sitting there on the couch and laughing along to one of your dumb cartoons. But then the harsh reality settles in- the TV is playing to an empty audience and I'm just sitting alone in the house, desperately trying to convince myself that you're still here. It's an endless cycle that I can't break out of.

The fans were pretty devastated to say the least. Even the ones who had grown out of Smosh years before were upset. It was so difficult having to tell them. I couldn't tweet about it. How insensitive is that? I had to make a video. Millions of people saw me in tears as I told them the news but it was the only way. They deserved that much at least. Since then, there have been dozens of tribute videos from fans and fellow youtubers along with loads of mail at our old P.O. box. It made everything feel so real; you weren't coming back. You were on the news and in papers for weeks, always with a heading along the lines of "Youtuber dies in tragic traffic accident". I felt sick just looking at it. Whenever the story came on I always switched the TV off and threw the remote across the room. I ripped up every newspaper that I came into contact with. To those reporters it was just another story to tell. Another semi-famous person dies and they get paid to make stories about it. They soon lost interest when I refused to give them any information. If there was no new "gossip" then they didn't care. I saw right through their fake sympathy. Now you're just another part of history and it breaks my heart. Hearing your name used in the past tense is unbearable. I need you Ian; I need you here with me. I need someone to slap me across the face and tell me to get on with living my life. I need someone who puts up with my lame jokes about certain people's mothers. I just miss you so much.

So here I am today, on November 30th 2014, lighting the candles on your birthday cake. Alone. Happy 27th birthday Ian Hecox. I'm sorry you couldn't make it.