Dear Michael,
I have been forced to see a therapist. Dr. Brett is like my parents. He thinks I'm crazy because of you. I know you're real. I see you almost every single day. We get lunch together, you stay the night often. You sat right in front of the therapist with me today, and he tried to tell me you weren't there.
I'm going to go crazy if one more person tells me I'm acting strange. If one more person ignores you when you speak. If a single person tries to tear us apart like my parents have, I'm going to snap.
I want to be with you and everyone is making that so hard. Why is this just starting now? They never treated you like this before. When we walked through the school halls, everyone was envying our love for each other. People wanted to be us, and now the though of you makes people sick. I hate it. I hate how it's been since I woke up.
Why would you want me to wake up? Did you know this would happen? Did you want this to happen? Every time I bring this topic up, you shy away. Why? Why want you discus this with me. I'm the only one fighting for people to treat you right. Why are you just accepting all of the dirty looks? All of the confusion and ignoring? Why are you letting people treat you like you don't even exist?
My sweet Michael, I love you so very much. I just hate it being like this. Speak to me. Tell me how you feel about this hatred coming from all of the people who once adored you. Tell me you love me in the way that used to make me know you meant it.
Love,
Elora
