Dear ex,

I don’t know if I’m going crazy or if it’s normal to stay till the early hours of the morning. Watch the night return and disappear as it does, and staring into the abyss which is the night sky searching for the answer. To why after a year you stay in my mind, and i can’t shake you. I spend nights elsewhere, meet other people. But still, a remaining constant of you.

Kissing boys is still new to me, where I’m told to abide by social construct. Kissing girls is the norm but your lips are the only thing I could ever want. Comming out at 17 was the most scared I could be buy after the flight of freedom I fell. Hard. And moving on has been the hardest thing i ever have had to do.

I still wake up wanting to tell you my dreams, lie next to you whilst we sleep. Tickle your arm as we sit. And I wake up wanting to keep falling. Because where traveling and university split our paths we could have meandered a way through.

Despite all of this. After a year, last week, I kissed you. And the worst thing about it is I didn’t regret it. I was too self obsessed to care about the consequences. The potential reopening of a can of worms. Now i find myself searching for a catalyst, a stimulus to get us talking through my own insanity. Some magical way to make a yearlong break be meaningless before I return to uni. To turn a month into a lifetime.

Basically I still love you and I wish I didn’t and I wish I could let it pass and I can’t so please let me know how you feel.

Love always,
O. C. Dickens