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july, 22nd

Dear Alya,

Happy anniversary, my love.

Today would've been ten months for us. Ten months of what should have been happiness, love, adoration, fondness of each other, etc.

But enough about that, I suppose I shouldn't dwell on things like that if you're not here.

I want you to excuse my messy hand writing, earlier I had gone out with some friends (I wouldn't really call them friends though— you know I wasn't one to socialize), and I'm a little tipsy. Now, as I sit and write this letter, all I can think about is how you would take care of me when I'd be crying after my dad locked me in a room for hours. You'd hold me, and tell me everything was going to be okay.

Nothing has been okay since you left.

Tainted » Landon KirbyWhere stories live. Discover now