To Arabella,
It took me three hundred sixty-five days to fully accept that you left, and I'm not even in the process of moving on. It's hard to let go even if you left my heart shattered into pieces.
Though it hurts, I keep on reading your letter. I read it to myself every night because it's the only thing I have left of you aside from the treehouse you finished.
At one point I wanted to follow you, to run away and hunt you down so I could hug you and never let you go. I would tell you that you don't have to go through this alone, because you had me. You know I'd never leave you alone.
It's sad how everything reminds me of you, frustrating even.
My coffee reminds me of you, the treehouse, the rocks you used to throw at my window. The store we stole from, even every brunette in town reminds me of you.
I don't hate you, even after you left I couldn't find myself to despise your guts. I should thank you, because everything about you was flammable and you managed to light a fire inside me that has made me change forever. But just as fast as we caught fire, you blew out the flame.
I'm sorry. I'm sorry because I can't move on, I'm sorry because I can't forget your touch, your hair, your eyes, your laugh. I'm sorry if I miss you everyday, I'm sorry if I think of you all the time. I'm sorry because I still love you.
How do I stop, Arabella?
Sincerely, Dave.
