I thought after giving him this letter, I would feel liberated, free, happy, and finally have the courage to move on. I don’t. I feel the same way I did the day before I gave the letter. I still want to be with him, wishing and hoping that one day, it will happen. I think I can’t let go of the idea of never feeling this again. The immense about of emotion, the overwhelming sense of euphoria and tragedy all wrapped up into one. The tugging at my heart like each breath I take is another fragile thread breaking, slowing allowing tears to seep out of my scars. I swear one day I won’t feel this way anymore, and that scares me. I love him. The thought of not loving him anymore or even just a little bit less, or not wishing to be with him, or the world not stopping when I see his face, the slight involuntary twitch my mouth no longer giving when I hear his name… that, all of that, scares me. I don’t want to forget him or even move on from him. I want him to be in my life forever. I never want to have to tell him I miss him or hope he’s doing well, or invite him to my wedding that he’s not the groom in. I thought the letter would help this war become less of a struggle and more of a victory. I thought I would finally stop crying over a missed opportunity. I thought… I thought I would be okay. But I’m not. I was hoping for an answer I knew I wasn’t going to get and I thought that maybe, just maybe, if I said the right words, my wish would come true, that I would finally get the man I’ve been wishing on so many stars for. I sound like a pathetic little girl, but I’m just a lovesick poet trying to make sense of the feelings inside her chest.