Letters to Luke » Luke Hemmings

xvi.

Dear Luke,

I didn't come out of my room for two whole weeks following my little escape. 

I sat thinking about you, more than I ever had. Thinking about all the times you and I laughed together, cried together, sang together, play fought together, loved together. I thought about every single little thing. 

I came to the conclusion that you were never coming back to me, so I wanted to die.

I prepared everything for me to put myself out of my pathetic misery, the pills were sitting on the floor in front of where I lay watching them.

I took them in my hand, uncapped the bottle and lifted it to my mouth.

Goodbye, Luke. I fucking love you.
I wish you had of came back to me.

I love you.

Love, Florence.