Had I known today was my last day, I would've spent it with you. Had I known that I would've lived a full 6 574 days, not one day more or one day less, I would've called to hear your voice one last time. Had I known I would've died on my 18th birthday, I would've confessed to you that I love you.
Our friendship---- no I mean our flirtationship was one of the best things that has ever happened to me. I am so thankful that I met you. You were my everything.
Only if I had the courage to tell you. I'm sorry, but I was scared. I was scared that my confession would end one of the most important things to me. I was scared to lose what we had, and most of all, I was scared to lose you.
But I had to know. I just had to know if you felt the same way I felt about you. I just had to know if you were only denying to protect me. And here I am, helplessly lying on my death bed in Toronto General Hospital writing this ridiculous letter that probably will get lost in the mail on its way to your McGill dorm room.
I remember the first time I laid eyes on you. It was at a church camp back in 2005. We were both only four years old. But guess what, four years old me was a clingy little brat who obsessed over you. I was so obsessed that I decided that I would one day move to Toronto just to be near you.
I got in to U of T, but you went to McGill. I've always had this feeling that you applied to McGill to be closer to me. So that we would've actually had a chance to have a real relationship. But hey, I did the same for you. Who would've known that our plans both backfired. Guess we were just meant to not be together.
You know in action movies when the villain is about to die and so the super hero asks the famous line, "any last words?" Well I am the villain in this wretched love story, because I was a coward for not telling you, so my last words are "I love you from beyond the grave"
