𝐔𝐧𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐌𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬

𝐔𝐧𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐌𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐞 #𝟓

Dear Astraea,

I love you.

I love your soft laugh.

I love your brown hazel eyes.

I love your beautiful black curly hair.

I love your outgoing personality.

I love the way you smile at the little things I do.

I love every aspect of you, Astraea Alessiah Russo.

I've spent the last year masking the pain consuming me. I watch you take care of me. You're draining yourself by helping me. I've accepted that I can't change the voices telling me to stop living. I would see you cry in the middle of the night and hope I'll be better for you one day. It's been six years since I left my broken home. I tried healing the internal scars my father left. I wanted to stop the bad habits that had almost taken my life. I wanted it all to stop.

By the time you read this, I have made the voices stop at the cost of losing you. I hate saying goodbye. Each letter marks one day closer to me leaving you.

I feel like an ass for leaving you after everything you've done for me. You helped me with my anxiety when things got bad. You made sure I never felt alone. You cried with me. You danced in the rain with me. We learned how to use the train system when we moved to Boston. I owe my life to you, Astraea.

Saying goodbye to you is one of the most challenging things in my life. The thought of you reading this letter with tears under your eyes shatters my heart. I know one day I'll see you again, my love. I won't be hurting anymore. You won't have to take care of me. I'll be able to be better for you. As it hurts to say this, I hope I don't see you anytime soon. I want you to live. I was hoping you could wake up each day with that beautiful smile. I want you to heal. I know you'll be hurt, but I'll always be with you. You may not see me, but know I'm always there for you, Rea.

I never told you my whole story. I left out some details. I never wanted to relive the moments of my childhood that left permanent scars on my heart. My dad was heavily addicted to drugs when he met my mom. His addiction led to abusive behavior. When I was four, I saw my dad hit my mom. He'd yell at her for not being enough for him or when she'd glance at another man. He was a hypocrite of a man. He cheated on my mother. He would have other women come to our house. And he'd make my mom cook for the woman and him. I saw my mom in pain. She felt drained of life. She barely slept. She'd spend all day cleaning the house, cooking for my father's mistresses, and tending to me. At an early age, I became independent. So I could take the burden off my mom's shoulders.

One night when I was eight, I came home from school to see my father with a knife held at my mom's throat. Tears streamed down her cheek. I wanted to help her, but I couldn't. I froze in place. I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe. That day was when I had my first anxiety attack. I didn't know it was harmful until it started happening every day. I tried to make them stop. I'd sit in my room at night crying. My mom would sit with me in my room and hold me until I fell asleep.

When my mom died, I felt all those memories flood back. The pain and trauma I endured from my father came back. I felt like I was reliving my childhood when I saw him at my mom's funeral. He started crying with his new wife and son. I was an adult. I was eighteen, and he still made me feel like a scared child. I felt bad for his new family. I hoped he treated them better than he did with mine. I had to hold back my tears. I had unresolved trauma that held me back from confronting him. He didn't deserve to mourn my mother. He treated her like shit. He was the reason she ended her life. I believed her disease would kill her, but my father's domestic violence led her to take her life.

Six years ago, when I found out you were pregnant, I was scared of being a father. I believed that I'd become like my dad. I only knew what a father shouldn't be like to his family. The slightest possibility of becoming my dad left me in pieces. Your brother was the ultimate reason I realized that I'm not my dad, nor will I ever be. Roman was once terrified of having children. He had the same fear I had. He turned into an excellent father to two children. I used my music to continue to get over the fears that were swallowing me whole. Eventually, I did move past that fear.

When I proposed to you this year, I was beyond excited to watch us get our happy endings. Now here I am, ruining your happiness. I am sorry, Rea. When I reunite with you in many years, I'll wrap my arms around you and never let you go again, my love. We'll get our happy ending, just not in this lifetime. I'm sorry.

You'll always be my favorite person Astraea.

Give Roman and Blaire's kids a big hug for me.

Tell them that uncle Grey loves them and wishes he could be there to watch them grow up. I'll be cheering for them in the clouds.

Sincerely Greyson Allori,