Letters to Wyatt✔️

27

February 14, 2016.

Dear Wyatt,

It's Valentine's Day. Stupid Valentine's Day.

I woke up so depressed that I couldn't even must the energy to go walk around the track with Matt this morning. I never miss a day. He probably thinks I'm dead, but I don't even have the motivation to text him an excuse or apology.

All I've had the energy to do is lie in bed and cry. A lot. If it wasn't for the fact that tears are saltwater, I could probably cure the world's clean drinking water problem single handedly.

I pulled down some of the pictures of us shoved in a box at the top of my closet. And, oh boy, was it a mistake. It just made me more sad.

I found the picture of us last Valentine's day at your friend's reception. It's the one where I'm sitting on your lap with my hand resting on your knee. Your hands are wrapped loosely around my waist, and your face is in my hair as you whisper something to me. Whatever you were whispering to me was clearly responsible for the soft smile on my lips.

We look so in love. We were so in love.

I'm still so in love. Are you? Still in love, that is, wherever it is that you are. I hope you are. But that might be a selfish thought.

The fairy lights lining the wall behind us in the picture make the scene look as magical as the night felt. I can't think of a single time I've been happier than I was that night. We swayed back and forth the whole night as we danced to the soft love songs playing, your hands on my waist while mine were woven around your neck. Every now and then, we would sneak in a kiss, and when we weren't kissing, my head was resting against your shoulder as you whispered "I love you" and other sweet nothings over and over.

It was a perfect night that felt like it came straight from a fairytale. And it did, except it wasn't just a tale. Because every day of our story felt perfect, and I never wanted it to end.

But it did. And look where I am now: writing in a beat up notebook to my dead lover on Valentine's Day as I lie in bed with by myself. It's far from how I imagined my next Valentine's being back then.

Savannah

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