Dear Mirabelle,
Sometimes I swear that I see you just walking down the street. Sometimes, I can hear your laugh and I can see your smile and your eyes. My stomach would drop and I would have to remind myself that you're dead, but I wish that wasn't true.
I wish that it was just a fact of you were alive and on a trip and that you would actually be getting these letters, that you would actually understand just how much I'm hurting. That you would understand how much I miss you.
I don't think my therapist was right, you know? I don't see how this could be good for anyone, in fact, this makes me wallow in my sadness more.
What the fuck am I supposed to do. I see you everywhere I go and it fucking hurts. I miss you each step I take and I don't want to do that anymore. I don't want to be sad anymore but I can't do that without you, Mira.
I don't know why, but I think I still love you.
Love,
Peter