07 may 2003.
it ricochet's between hopeful and nearly perfect to ambiguity and doubt. phone calls hardly make it past a few minutes, and every hang up feels like it could be the last. Today... I couldn't talk to you. I really hope you're feeling so much better, because if you're sick, so am I. I need you and it kills me when I can't talk to you. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. I can't wait until we are next to each other... and I can just watch you breathe. I miss you too much to sleep. You're the one for me, Jaime, and nothing can change that, nobody and no time. i read that now and wonder if you can even remember writing such a thing, full of naive promises and untarnished wishes. i tuck it into an envelope and fold over the top. |
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