amara :: irwin

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my dearest friend,
i apologize for not finding time to sit down and write another letter to you. school is taking up nearly all my time, thank god it's almost over.

did you get my flowers? i instantly thought of you when i saw them. i recalled the time we walked past a floral shop and you said 'i don't see the point in plants. why try and keep something else alive when you can barely breathe yourself?'

you said those specific flowers made you almost see the point in having them. just almost.

i do hope they don't bother you, having to keep up another life and all.

i suppose this is the part when i update you on my always enchanting trepidations and such.

i met a girl.

before you jump to conclusions, keep in mind she is just a girl. by that, i mean skinned knees and waiting for the bus. tangled curls and flushed cheeks. with wide eyes and soft, virgin lips.

alright maybe i'm getting ahead of myself, i've probably only got two years on her. but alas, she's much too fragile for me. you surely understand, don't you?

still, she isn't like any girl i've ever met. or woman, for that matter.

perhaps it's just my loneliness speaking, or my hopelessness for any female at this point.

but she's intriguing. she reads nabakov and it always seems like she's somewhere else completely. it's almost like there's a forest in her head, vines wrapping themselves around her mind and keeping her trapped.

i saw her staring at a piece of graffiti the other day. she just stood there, silent and still for at least twenty whole minutes. i couldn't even begin to decipher her expression, curiosity gnawing me alive at what she was thinking.

anyway, i suppose all of this is unimportant. i don't even know why i wrote it down at all, just a waste of ink and space.

although, i find a lot of things to be a waste of ink and space.

but never you, my love.

your lovely writer,
ashton irwin x