Dear A.,

Although I am not sure what I may have done to cause you distress, enough distress to have to avoid my poor little soul, I worry about you even then. I cannot stop thinking about you.

The mere presence of your face, lazy smile, the comforting sound of your voice, it haunts me and brings me chills. It makes me ill, weak.

Oh why, why won’t you respond to my cries? I’m crying out for you. You hurt me like no other, but I still see you as my bright light in the dark, dark, abandoned lighthouse.

Didn’t you promise me the world? I’m waiting, for someone I don’t know the slightest of, to save me from my own life.

I am clinging onto the little thread you have left for me. But as the days go by, the red thread becomes thinner, and eventually, we’ll see this break, setting me free…

I’m falling, farther, and farther away from your warmth and laughter. Is there another way out of this dysfunctional life I live? Sometimes I think not. But life goes on, yes? Although I thought this chapter of my life, with you, would have lasted longer. I wanted to pour myself into you, feel the woman’s touch, the woman whom I thought loved me with every nerve in his body.

I assume I was wrong. I’ll learn to thrive without you. The sinking feeling in my stomach will fade, the lightheadedness I awake with will subside, and soon enough I’ll blossom to become the boy you shall never know me as.