I don’t know if you can still hear me, or even if you’re there. I just wanted to let you know that you still matter to me, and it’s freaking me out. Of all the people I don’t talk to anymore, it’s you I miss the most. That may or may not be saying much, because I really don’t miss anyone. That’s a lie; I’d give anything to go with youÂ on this trip instead. I am Jack’s lie.
I don’t really remember a lot of what happened. I remember you were upset, and then I was. I remember I didn’t write, but eventually you did. I remember how pretty you were, and how your writing never looked like you. I remember the way you wrote my name, or just the M. I remember you wrote love at the close of each letter. I remember your pain and I’ll never know if it ended. I haven’t given anyone my loyalty or feelings in a long time in the way your one letter still rips from me. I miss you.
“And sometimes, sometimes I don’t feel alone. Maybe thoseÂ momentsÂ are the only ones worth remembering. Just maybe.”