I write you today because I now know what needs to be done and I know that means the only way I will ever talk to you is by letter.
Here, in words, on paper, we can be authentic. Ourselves. We can be together.
Out there, well, there can be no we. No us.
I thought I was prepared, but I suppose I’m not. Not truly. I guess the situation we’re in is only now beginning to dawn on me. And it is harder than I thought it would be.
I am plagued with guilt. Was I too weak? Did I not fight hard enough?
I need you to forgive me.
These things take time. That I understand. I hope that one day you will.