Dear Ornela,
You were with me last night. From the moment
I fell asleep until the first rays of sunlight woke me from my bed, we were
together. In my dream we did not make love, we did not kiss, we did not even
hold hands. We just talked, all night, about everything...it was the closest I
have ever felt to you.
That is what I miss most Ornela...our
talks. I miss hearing your voice, hearing your laugh, and sharing our own
unique inner worlds with each other that no one else even knows about. I miss
that deep intimacy we used to share.
Some part of you still cares about me,
which is why you read this journal every day. This journal lets us have those
same talks that we used to, those same talks where we shared our intimate
feelings...our true selves. I know that you are not in love with me anymore,
but I also know that you made a promise to try to love me again. And that type
of love grows slowly; it grows as two people begin to trust each other again. It
grows as they talk and open their hearts to one another, just as I have tried
to do through writing you my letters in this journal.
I hope you that one day, when you are
ready, you will open your heart to me too. I hope that one day you will ask to
talk to me again.
I miss you very much Ornela.
Love,
Bobby
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