Dear Edmund:
I find it strange, no matter how many times it happens, when I start to figure a person out.
It's just so odd and fascinating, to learn their language, what the movement of their hands means, or the tilt of their head, or the sparkle in their eyes.
I find it weird when each time we talk we need less and less words.
With you it's the same, I know what to say and what expressions to make, how to read between the lines. How to help you trust me. How to be there for you.
Even though it feels like cheating, maybe that's why I don't let you get close, because I don't want you to feel like I figured you out too fast, even though I did.
That's why it's so strange for me, since I'm the one that usually takes the time to know people, since I'm the one who usually cares the most, since I'm the one that usually knows what it's like to be sad. That's why it's so strange for me, when someone else figures me out.
And I don't know if it should be surprising, or not surprising at all, that it wasn't you that took the time.
YOU ARE READING
Letters to Edmund
Non-Fiction"Letters to you, even though you'll never get them" (This book is like a diary for me, everything that happens actually happens for real, so please respect my work and the characters because they are real people)
