Dear Lily,
I remember the first day that I saw you. Your hair was a caramel colour, falling perfectly over your petite frame. It cut to just below your collarbone, straight and looked like silk. Your eyes looked tired, like your surroundings.
You were waiting for someone, outside of an old coffee shop. We made very awkward eye contact for a few seconds, before your face broke out into a beautiful, million-dollar, smile. I made my way to you- though it wasn't me you were waiting on.
I hope that it's the same way when I see you again, because I can't live like this anymore. I just can't. I have to let myself go. I would ask you to wait for me, though I know you can't. I wonder what it's like up there anyways. Should I be scared for when I go?
Anyhow, I mean to say my goodbyes. I have to move on through to the next level. I can't live like this. I can't I can't I can't I can't.
As you've probably been able to deduce, everything is hurting. I'm so sore. I can't take any more hits to the gut. I can't. I leaned on you too much and now you're all gone I can't deal with anything anymore. I've fallen over and I can't get back up onto my feet. There's nowhere but there for me to go.
I can't live in this goddamn house. I can't be anywhere near your sister without swinging a punch at her ugly, plastic face. I can't deal with my friends, though they can't deal with me either. They got sick of the moping.
But it's all going to be okay now, they won't have to deal with me and I will be well away from your sister and everything is going to be okay again. Everything is going to be fine. Absolutely okay.
Love from Andrew, signing off for the last time.
YOU ARE READING
Letters To Lily
Short Story"Why did you leave me," I had cried. "Don't you dare leave me lonely, Lily. Don't you dare." But you had already left. --- The story of a man, written in letters, falling into the abyss of grief. Inspired by Hotel Ceiling by Rixton
