No Rain, No Tears//Stiles Stilinski

Not sent

Dear Geneviéve

I must admit that I haven't read any of your past letters. I don't feel like reading them. I wish I could, but I feel guilty for not opening them or posting any of my letters I have written. So much have been happening here in Beacon Hills and actually sitting down and writing something to you haven't really been my priority. The probability is high that you already know somethings anyway. I know my dad have called you. I know he told you about the gun pointed at me and that the guy was killed infront of me. Same thing about him getting shot. And our trip to Mexico. 

I wish I could tell you all of those things that have been on my mind. How scary I have been at times. How many times I have been staring at your name at my phone and wanted to call you. But I don't know. I don't know how your life is. I don't want my shit to be your shit. Even if you would say that my shit is our shit and the other way around. This sound so criminal. I promise you I'm not in the maffia even if it sound like it. 

Sometimes my life can sums up in a fairytale by the brothers Grimm. Remember Little red riding hood? The wolf is always portrayed in bad lightning. Sure he always eats the grandma and the little red riding hood. But I just feel like there are more wolves than humans sometimes that wants to eat me. Or that it is the grandma that wants to eat the wolf. 

Truth be told, I could write letter after letter telling you how sorry I am. But that won't justify that I wasn't there for you. Nothing in this world could make you forgive me for it. My mind is telling me this over and over again. That is why I never send you these letters. Also because I am keeping you from a big part of my life that could hurt you so much. It could kill you. And that would mean I would loose you for real. So I am sorry, but I care too much about you.

Love, 
your friend Stiles