Dear Dawson

Dear Dawson- 9

May 20.

Dear Dawson, you'll probably never read these letters. I hope you don't. I hope no one ever finds them in the little chest under my bed, in fact. That would just be  embarrassing.

Sometimes, I forget you for a few minutes, and those are the best snow moments ever.

Well, I can't actually decide if they're the best or worst snow moments of my lifetime. In the moment, they feel awesome, but after, I just wish it could be like that forever. It can't, though, and that sucks.

It is probably rather cruel to think it's a great thing to be forgetting you, but I can't help it. I don't want to remember the way your eyes twinkle when you laugh or how you squint when we are at the beach or how I would wrap my arms around you whenever we walked together sometimes. I never want to remember that I can't have you, not even as a friend.

I hope you know I still love you, and if you came to me with a problem, I would I still help you no matter what. You're still my best friend by heart and the unknowing love of my life. I will always have a place in my heart for you.

The problem is you won't come back to me.

This is reality, where you go on with your life and I sulk in my sadness. This isn't "Cinderella" or some other princess movie where the prince comes back to her.

No, this is reality, and reality is that you won't even come back to me. You don't care. Maybe you never did. I can't blame you, though, because I wouldn't care about me either if I were you.

Love,
Kindley.