i found the letter i never sent you, neatly folded and sealed in an envelope with no address on it. i ripped it open and read the words as if seeing them for the very first time; six pages filled with thoughts, emotions, and scribbled-out ideas... i’m sorry i never sent it. i think it was more of a closure activity for me, more than anything. i do recognize those thoughts as my own, though i do not particularly feel i need to justify myself anymore. i don’t think you’ll ever see it.
maybe i'll get an address next time.
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