MARCH 10TH, 2017.
tom,
i don't have a whole lot to say now.
i haven't got the words anymore.
it's like my chest is concaving, every second i'm not with you. i found one of your long-sleeve shirts in my closet this afternoon, and i clutched it like it was the oxygen i needed to breathe. not that you care anymore, but it hurts.
and everyday you're gone, it hurts more. it makes me think about all the silly arguments we've had over the years, and this one blew them out of the water.
can't you see that it wasn't my fault that night?
maybe like you, i should choose not to care.
regards,
Lynn.
