I write these letters knowing you’ll never actually read them-not now, not in the next 50…100 years-yet I still write.
I guess I am doing it more so to comfort my self, to let myself get out what I need to get out. A sort of self-pleasuring,if you will.
I guess I am doing fine on this end.
I am married, 2 kids, etc etc.
I have been married 8 years now, and I love my husband dearly, but I still think about you every day.
It’s not like we were lovers or even dating in High School; we were just friends. But I remember each day I spent with you as clearly as if they were yesterday-which is saying something, with my poor memory and all.
But I digress.
I regret a lot in my life, but the thing I regret most is never telling you how I feel.
Remember the night we were all crammed in the back of a car–me, you and your sister in that order, left to right-on the way to a birthday party for you?
I had a game in my lap. It was called Ripley’s Believe it Or Not. The whole trip there you kept starting sentences with: “Believe it or not.” and you blamed it on the game.
I acted annoyed and shy but really,I was trying to plan what I would tell you that evening -about how I feel towards you.
I did get the chance to, but I chickened out each time.
But I am writing you now because I am going mad in my house, thinking about you at every waking moment.
CL–I miss you. More than words can convey.
Believe it or not…