Dear HY,
I don't know what kind of life you think I live. I certainly don't know yours but I can assure you it's not what you think.
You were right. My parents sift through my mail with hungry eyes. I won't deny that. But I always find a way of getting them. Always. Your letters are the only things that keep me sane in this great big house. My prison, I just want to escape, see the outside world for once. To experience happiness, heartbreak, freedom.
You see, you're not the only one with struggles. Our trials may be completely opposite in nature but a struggle all the same. I am being suffocated in my own home. I'm being watched, analyzed and shackled. When it will end? I don't know. Just would somebody please let me know if it ever will.
HY, such an interesting alias. It's almost funny how infatuated you've become with me. I feel bad because I don't have a clue of who you are. I don't have a clue about who I am either. Run away with me HY.
Let's pretend that I escape from this place and we meet somewhere. Anywhere. Where would we go? What would we do?
Let's start with where would we meet.
Meet me in the woods.
Meet me by the ocean.
Meet me in the green pastures.
Meet me in the street.
You pick.
Sincerely, Emilia
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Short Stories
Short StoryShort stories, poems and thoughts. Short stories: The sin that killed Louisa Dearland. New Moon. Love Letters. Summer. Poems: How exactly? Sweet nothings. Writing on paper. Are you okay? And more...
