Dear Old Friend

you......

     I very much dislike the author Hemingway. In my opinion he was an alcoholic, abusive masygonist. His writings were depressing as hell and he was very dramatic in everything he wrote. Maybe the reason I hate him the most is that he tells the world like it is.
      I much prefer Jane Austen who wrote hopeful stories about young, poor, women who married rich and handsome men who really loved them. She wrote the fairytales of the 1800s.
     But I have come to understand that those fairytales are nothing more than that, fairytales. Those hopeful and romantic stories are nothing of the harsh and unforgiving truth that Hemingway writes. Those stories of young women finding the perfect men are nothing more than a shout into the void of reality along with hundreds of other girls who believe in those stories.
     I had, up until now, yet to hear your story. You alwyas spoke of it and I peiced together little parts of information, but I had never heard the whole story. Your story.  The story of your childhood and how you came to place in which you now reside.
     The way you write...... well you make Hemingway proud. What I am going through now, well I thought it was bad but I never can compare to your life.
      Your writings.... well I know that the way I feel about you is just another shout into the void of oblivion and that love is just another word though it is used by both authors. But I do believe it will happen to everyone, we just can't let it slip through our fingers.
    

Wednesday 15 February, 2017
     I had a chance to see you. To see the hope in your eyes and the scars on your arms. To rush towards you and become whole again with your embrace. To be lifted off my feet and be jilted by sorrow. 1 year, 6 months, and about 3 weeks..... I'm counting. But as we both know that did not happen that day.
     Sitting on that stage, my thoughts turned towards you. Looking to the basses I imagine you standing there. I remember that you were standing there not but a few hours ago. I spent the entire day hoping that I would see you, but you know what they say, "distance makes the heart grow fonder". But that day I didn't feel as though you were so far away, more as though you were on in the next room or a door away from me.
     I may not like Hemingway that much but I think I can come to terms that life is not as it seems. There will be Jane Austen fairytale days and there will be Hemingway days. But I know that no matter what comes we will overcome it.

"We love, we live, we give what we can give, and take what little we deserve."- Love Never Dies