Shit, I'm sorry. I feel awful that I haven't been there for you. Have you been talking to your priest? I hope you haven't been keeping it all bottled up inside, you know that's not healthy, I've told you that. You need to talk about these things, A, it's important for your own mental health. And since I haven't been around for you to talk to, I really hope you found another outlet. I hate to think about you suffering because I was MIA.
To be honest, I don't remember half of what I wrote to you. Everything was kind of a fucking mess, after, and after writing a letter, I'd close the book and not read them again. They were meant for your eyes.
I know. I'm sorry. I understand completely your dilemma right now. I don't know what to do. I hope you told your friend how you felt, that he was pleased, that you guys are happy. It would make me happy to know things are good for you.
Right now? In my sister's guest room in New Hampshire. Why?
no subject