Just a little longer.

You

When I read those pages I wrote for you, it seems as if I'm writing letters. Am I really that cliché? However, I admit that I would not say no to receive letters like that. I hope you appreciate it darling.

I talked about myself enough, now you. How are you these days?

How is life treating you?

Did you drink water?

Did you make yourself pretty today?

Maybe it wasn't a good day and you just stayed in bed, it's okay too.

Tell me something you're proud you did.

I'm so proud of you darling.

I didn't think you would stay that long. I'm happy you did. Seeing your face when you open the book gives me chills. But good chills. Comforting chills. The type of comfort you feel putting on warm blankets lying in your bed after a long day, or drinking hot chocolate after a cold day. This little moment of simple but soothing happiness.

While you are reading my words, I wonder what would be yours. That's the sad part of the story. However, you can use my pages as a refuge for as long and often as you like. When you feel alone in a world that will never understand you, I'll be here. My words are never ending my dear, as long as you don't mind repeating them.

I wish I could give you everything. And more. If you wanted flowers, I would give you a field. If you wanted sex, I would give you an orgasm. If you wanted to fight, I would give you a war. If you wanted time, I would give you every second. But I can't. I only have words, so I write you a novel.