You wrote me a letter.
I recieved it.
I wrote you back.
You wrote me back.
Repeat.
We had done this for a whole year.
Rainbow—that was your name. Well at least, what you wrote in that letter.
I wrote mine as clouds, just for a reason to match yours.
Is it even possible for me say that I have fallen?
I don't even know your name, your real name, what you look like. Where you live, what your voice sounds like.
All I know is you pseudonym, hobbies, likes, dislikes, the stories you tell — whether or not it's true or fake.
I have fallen for you stories, the personality I see based on your letters, you broke sense of humor.
I'm not even sure if you are real, or if you like me as well. Inever had the guts to ask.
Who knows, you might be a man in his mid-50s sitting all alone in a stinky one-bedroom apartment, sending letters to random people to mess with them.
I don't really want to know, I don't want the truth. Because I might ruin the person whom I created in my mind.
I know it's weird. To have fallen for someone I don't know.
Someday we'll meet, hopefully. You might be the opposite if what I had imagined, or maybe better.
For now, I just like to spend my days, sitting in my bed reading all of the letters you gave me.
.
.
.
.
♡ caza4raia
[Feel free to share some of your your stories here ☆]
