dead

Twenty Eight Letter

I'm writing sitting on your bed right now.
It all seems so empty. So, so empty.
Elizabeth is here with me. I'm mentioning her a lot, am I?
I guess you can already tell she's really helped me since you left. She makes me smile.
And she made me realize that you didn't left me on purpose. It wasn't your fault.
Because if I'm blaming you for leaving the house that day, I should blame the Internet for making me meet you.
What the human mind can convince us of.
I've packed most of my things. I guess I'll come back sometime soon.
But I need to get away from you, just for a while.
She's waiting outside Phil, I have to go.
I'll try to stop writing to you, at least for this two weeks.
It's time to stop thinking about you.