Invisible String [t. s]

Where Did You Go?

July 13th, 1922.
London, United Kingdom

Dearest Amélie Angelina Rosier:

Where did you go? And why did you take my stupid, foolish, idiotic heart with you?

I know I made a mistake. Not speaking never seems to be the right thing to do. I've never been good at it, expressing my feelings, specially when it comes to the stupid feeling that includes unwanted butterflies in my stomach caused by you.

I never...cared more than when you said goodbye, I discovered that for the first time several moons and suns ago. In case you're wondering, yes, I'm writing this after a couple drinks and I know it's a foolish idea.

On another note, I feel like I need you to know that I'm not a religious person, but I do thank god for you. Yesterday I had a dream, of a wedding. My wedding. But I guess that will live in the back of my mind for now, because I need to focus on having you back, for I wouldn't marry someone that isn't you.

The remaining question is if I ever will have you back because it's entirely up to me, beating my fears. I hope I do because I do not know what I would do without you, Amélie. That goodbye, watching you walk away, wrecked my world in a way words aren't enough to describe. You sort of ripped me open, I don't know if you even know it.

I hope you are not done trying to hold on to me. I'm trying, I really am. Specially because I think I could allow myself to fall in love again if it's with you. And I hope I can actually say it to you some day, without the safety of ink and paper, but with the unsteadiness of spoken words.

Before my mind makes this words make no sense at all (I feel they don't make sense at the moment, really), I will stop writing.

I hope you are alright, that you are safe, wherever you might be.

Best regards, yours truly, sincerely and forever, Theseus.