Letter #5: June 14, 2018
Lainey,
I’m writing this because I know you’ll never see it. But seeing you was...oh god, I didn’t realize how much I missed you until I saw you. Why you decided to show up in Spain, I don’t know, but it was the best and worst thing that you could have done. The best because I know you’re okay, and Stephen knows that Jean is okay, and that you’re as beautiful as ever. You’re as vibrant as ever. The worst because...you’re as beautiful as ever, you’re as vibrant as ever, hearing your laugh made me ache in ways I didn’t know I could ache, and I wanted nothing more than to just travel the world with you and just make a life for us again. I wanted to tell you I was ready, so badly. I wanted to tell you that I missed you, that I had made a huge mistake, but I know it wasn’t the time. Because you wanted to see the world for yourself, and you should. You deserve to find yourself again, just as I deserve to find myself again.
But I wanted to tell you that I love you. That I miss you. And that I will love you until my dying day.
I should stop writing these. I’m giving myself false hope, and that is the worst hope to live on.
Yours,
Silas
Lainey,
I’m writing this because I know you’ll never see it. But seeing you was...oh god, I didn’t realize how much I missed you until I saw you. Why you decided to show up in Spain, I don’t know, but it was the best and worst thing that you could have done. The best because I know you’re okay, and Stephen knows that Jean is okay, and that you’re as beautiful as ever. You’re as vibrant as ever. The worst because...you’re as beautiful as ever, you’re as vibrant as ever, hearing your laugh made me ache in ways I didn’t know I could ache, and I wanted nothing more than to just travel the world with you and just make a life for us again. I wanted to tell you I was ready, so badly. I wanted to tell you that I missed you, that I had made a huge mistake, but I know it wasn’t the time. Because you wanted to see the world for yourself, and you should. You deserve to find yourself again, just as I deserve to find myself again.
But I wanted to tell you that I love you. That I miss you. And that I will love you until my dying day.
I should stop writing these. I’m giving myself false hope, and that is the worst hope to live on.
Yours,
Silas