December 19th 1986
I told you today. I never planned to. I was going to wait until I couldn't anymore, or until it was too late. But then you started talking about the future and houses with fences and small children running around, being chased by Banner and another dog and I just . . . cracked.
Even as I'm writing this, I'm crying, so excuse the tear stains. I don't know where you went, you just up and left, putting a hand on my head. I'm so sorry. I know I should have told you sooner, but you have to understand that I was scared, terrified, so so afraid. I didn't want you to leave me when I need you the most. You did anyway, but I understand. You need time, I guess, to let it settle in. I've had months.
I can't stop crying now.
I hope when, if, you come back from wherever you went that we can talk and spend the rest of my life being together. That's all I want. To say I was with you until my end. If the situation was reversed, I know I wouldn't be able to survive. I'd be nothing. Lonely, heartbroken, nothing.
You're a survivor, Zach.
This must have always been my destiny. I was already broken, close to the edge. Now I'm just going to enjoy the rest of the ride. Enjoy it with me, please.
I'm sorry and I love you, still.
Lewis
YOU ARE READING
The 2,000 Letters
Short StoryHe wrote 2,000 letters. One every day since they met. For 2,000 days. And not a day longer.
