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Thursday, February 9, 2017

the love letter series: number three

It didn’t take long to know that this was something different. We met at the end of December. It was a spontaneous Sunday afternoon. The last time I felt this way about meeting somebody was over five years ago. That person is gone but the damage is done and I have the scars on my heart to show for it. I warned you about this, but we made jokes about an unrealistic future anyway because it all seemed to be too good to be true. I’ll remember how that Sunday afternoon felt as vividly as I remember the same feeling five years ago. 

The problem is, I bought into those jokes that we made for the first time since the damage had been done. I lit my heart and my mind on fire and let them run wild with the idea of possibility. We had similar interests and paths, a path that no other person has been able to relate to. You intrigued me with your creative success and intellect, your degenerate past and the marks on your body to tell the story of each friend who didn’t make it like you did, your passion for feminism and good hip-hop. You had multiple layers and stories and I wanted to know every single one of them.

And it was all a lie.
But still, all I want to do is kiss you again. 



The Love Letter Series is a personal tribute to people that hold a little piece of my heart. These letters aren't necessarily about love; they're dedicated to long relationships, short encounters, romanticized memories, heartbreaking losses, longing, and forgiveness - all without a name mentioned. Vulnerability is a feeling I've long avoided, so these letters are an intimate look inside my highly guarded heart. 



Photos by Alyssa Timoteo

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