Letters to you

I suppose that you'll never see this.
I guess that's a good thing,
Because It's kinda embarrassing.
Maybe one day I'll show you,
But not now...

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1. 5 days before.

I guess you'll never see this.

I suppose that's a good thing,

Because it's kinda embarrassing.

But the thing is, I feel like I can talk to you. Even once you're gone. But we have time, little as it may be....

I guess that I have a few friends. I love them all to pieces, but the reason I came here was to escape my past. I don't want to tell them, yet. Maybe in the future, I can open up about it but at the moment I can't. Because if I do, I'm scared of being judged. No. Not judged.

I'm scared of being treated like a piece of glass precariously balanced on an ancient shelf. One wrong move and I'm in pieces. I spent a long time like this, and I hated it. I wasn't fragile, I was struggling. Just because I was drowning, didn't mean I was going to die.

I was angry at everyone, for a while. My friends, my family, myself especially for being angry at them. But I guess that ever since I met you, I learned that just because you have a lot of anger in your heart, doesn't necessarily mean that I can't be happy.

Once you asked me if I could just run away from my past, and I said no. You left it at that, and that's why I love you. I get moody, and depressed, and I don't explain why. And you still are genuinely worried for me. You know I've had a bad history, and that I don't like to talk about it. You just be there for me, when I need it the most...

I love how you get me. You get me when I'm tired, because I pulled (yet another) all-nighter just so I could finish a book. You get me when I'm in a grumpy mood because our bitchy teacher decided to pile on the homework. You get me when I'm happy because the next book in my favourite series has come out, or is even on the window in Waterstones!

I don't know if I love you like more than a friend. Maybe I do, somewhere. But I guess it's too late now. But I know that I truly love you, as my friend. And I thank you for being my friend, because that's more than I've even deserved.

I'll write to you tomorrow, even though it's a weird promise because I know you'll never see this. Maybe one day, I could. But not now.

Love,

Marie.

P.s. Only one person will know that I'm writing to you. But I trust her. I'd trust her with my life (but not with my chocolate. Never.)

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