Every week, it's the same thing.
Every week, the dreams are the same.
What dreams are different, get stronger.
Since November 29th, I've wanted to send you something, anything. The best I could muster was asking you to come in for your pre-orders.
I miss you.
By everything that is sacred, wicked, divine, unholy - in all the worlds, in every way, I miss you.
I picture your smile, I dream of your voice. All I want is to talk to you again - that's a lie and we both know it.
I won't fill this with "I wish" and "I'm sorry" and every other thing under the sun in the hopes that you'll pity me enough. No, that's disrespectful towards you, and that's not anything anyone needs to deal with. This isn't a bid for attention, just something that I need to express, though it is still quite powerful nonetheless.
I will, however, say that I can't bear the weight with which that first week of August is bearing down on me.
I want to tell you that you were wrong. That your decision was wrong, is wrong. But I won't. To this day, if you asked me, I would tell you I respect your decision, as it was yours to make. But that does not mean I agree with it, that I condone it, that it was right.
Maybe I'm sad. Maybe I should have let go of this by now; it's been over six months. Twenty-seven weeks and two days, to be exact. But I feel like that's equivalent exchange for you. I can't just let go of all those years.
It wasn't perfect. Or at least I wasn't. And you deserve perfection, absolutely. But I was trying, am still striving, and always will work towards just that.
I don't really expect you to see this. I don't really expect you to respond to this. I do not expect this to fix anything.
But I have to say it. It has to be said, and, someday, you have to know.
There's so much more I could say, so much more I want to share, not only to make you understand how I feel - how I've always felt - but also, just because you have missed so much, and I've missed even more. You could ask me tomorrow, and I would remember everything I have yet to tell you from nearly every day. I've kept it all, just in case.
I pray to every god there ever was or will be that this finds you well, that you're happy, and - selfishly - that you'll read at least some part of this and perhaps smile, ever so faintly, or remember some happiness from it all.
Above all else, I wish you the absolute best out of life. I want to see you succeed. I want to see you happy, with everything you could ever want and more. That's all I want from this world.
