Letters to The Fighter ✔

1. Dear Peter

March 9th, 2014

Dear Peter, 

      It's cold.

Spring is right around the corner, yet the breeze  is capable of chilling one to the very bones, the sun a rarity, and the clouds all too stubborn. It's cold in more ways than just one. I don't remember what warmth feels like anymore. I can't find the same comfort that I once did in blankets or tea. It seems that the goosebumps on my skin have found a permanent residence, along with this eerie type of vacancy, like some type of infinite abyss in the middle of my chest.

Sometimes, I find myself trying to feel for my own heartbeat. Just to make sure, you know? When it feels as if everyone and everything around me is part of some sort of race to reach the end of what we like to think of as time, I find myself frozen―unable to step backwards or forwards and unable to think and unable to feel. It's surreal, really, how I sometimes feel like I'm not a part of this world, but a silly outsider who constantly watches the clocks spin and the seasons change.  

The faint thumping of my heart against the taut skin of my palm isn't enough to convince me sometimes. I try crying, but there are never any tears. I try to laugh, but the sound is just as ancient as the word. I'm lost, Pete. For once in my life, I don't know how to be positive or optimistic. I'm starting to think that you were right all along, Peter, and that there really isn't any good in this world. But then I remind myself of what we once had. Forget good; it was rather beautiful. It was a sort of beauty that was so rare and so exquisite and so precious that it could never last for long. It was simply too good to be true.

I see you in everything. It rains, and I'm reliving every Spring thunderstorm that graced the days we'd spent together.

When I drink coffee, I'm reminded of the café that became our second home on cold nights.

Even the moon reminds me of you. Silly, right? However, it's the only thing that's ever witnessed the love that we'd fallen in. It watched silently, kept our secrets, and gave us the nights that we'd always remember. 

Now, I'm going to try something new. I'm going to relive our memories, whether or not you choose to do the same. 

I'm convinced that in order to forget, I need to first remember. 

And although it can be deemed the greatest of all tortures, I'm going to send you letters until I feel that I've done our once-existent love justice. For all I know, you'll choose to toss this without even opening the envelope, but I'm going to tell myself that you are reading this. Not because I believe that I should be forgiven, but because I need to feel like I'm alive, Peter. I need to be able to feel again. I need to know that there is still something of a soul in this lifeless body. 

I've tried forgetting, but it's impossible. I've tried moving on, but there is nowhere―there is nothing to move on to. So now I'm going to do what I'm best at: I'm going to tell you a story. And this story is different  because although it has its 'Once Upon a Time,' it does not yet have an ending. 

The ending is in your hands.

             ~ With hope, 

Lucy.

(a/n)

So I started writing this years ago, as you can probably tell from the publishing date. Just recently, I've been inspired to come back and finish it. As I read through my already published parts, I will be editing them. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoy writing it.

Don't forget to vote as you read on! :)

Dedicated to: @TheFallingRain (Rainy) for being such an inspiration and just an overall amazing person.