May 31.
Dear Dawson, you make me feel alive, like I'm living, even if I'm really not. You make everything seem like it's an exciting roller coaster even if it's the most boring thing ever.
That's something I've always really loved about you among many other things.
It's like a high almost, like I'm addicted to you and only you. I can't even transfer my controlling addiction to someone else, it's only you.
I tried to forget you, but I now know that's impossible. It won't happen.
So, I remember you with a heavy heart everywhere I go even though I don't want to. I'd much rather forget you even existed and just leave it be, go away and never have to see you again. That would be perfect.
But I don't live in a perfect world.
You're not perfect no matter how much I believe it, and neither am I. No one is.
I just want you to love me.
God, that sounds desperate.
Is it sad that it's true?
I've always just wanted happiness, but it's always pulled away from me when I finally do find it.
Why isn't the world fair, Dawson?
Why can't people just be people and love each other and be kind and caring and nurturing? Why can't humans be humane?
Why can't people be perfect?
Love,
Kindley.