It’s been a day of anxiety and the person who wrote to you earlier suddenly feels like someone else.
Right now I just miss you, I know there won’t be another you. I know you weren’t perfect but I love you. I’m desperate to know you loved me too.
Looking at old photos it feels true, but reading your words to these women I don’t know who you were.
I’ve spent time going through them again, the conversations between your alter ego and the women that piqued your fantasy. It’s torture, but there’s comfort in that pain too.
I wish you’d told me all that you are, all that you wanted, I’d have loved all of you, I already do even though that love is just pain right now. I hope you felt loved.
I’m not sure I’ll ever forgive you for hiding the cancer or your secret life but my love for you doesn’t need forgiveness it just is.
I miss you, come home now and we can fix it x