8/6/98
Dear Tristin,
Every day I wait for you to come home. I wait for you to come through my door and hug me and kiss me and tell me everything is alright.
And then I realize that that's impossible. It's imaginary. And it won't be happening. Ever. And my heart aches when I think of it. Tristin, I used to love you. A part of me still does. But now, most of me is filled with regret and hate and sorrow for letting you leave.
My therapist told me it wasn't my fault that you left. That I couldn't have done anything to stop you, because you had already made up your mind. But I know that isn't true. I could have convinced you. I could have said how much everyone loves you and you would have hugged me and told me you weren't leaving.
But here I am now, questioning my own insanity as I write letters to a man with no intention of replying. I hope you're having a good life without me. Without Riley. Without your parents.
Everything is destroyed because of you. Everything doesn't matter. Nothing matters anymore, because you left.
I hope you're happy.
-Ace
