peachy. timothée chalamet

xix.

nineteen
rose

timmy,
i know i shouldn't, but i want to write to you. i want to get everything out and understand what i'm feeling, and i want to share that with you. but i can't. i can't bring myself to send this letter or even send a simple text message after the ones i left you with. every time i go to, i see those empty apologies and i find myself waiting to see your incoming responses, but i realize i never will.

i read your letter. amelia gave it to me the night i came home drunk and tried to call you. i'm sorry i put you through that — i know my calls went through. i know you were sitting on the other side of the screen aching to press redial. and i know you did. i saw your name appear on my screen and i reached for the phone, but lia grabbed it before me. she said i shouldn't keep grasping on to the past, and she declined your call and reblocked your number.

she was right. i shouldn't continue holding onto the past, especially when i'm the one who wants it to stay behind us.

you said we never had enough time. in the letter, i mean. you said that time was what we needed and had so little of. but what you didn't say was the truth. what you didn't say was that we had all of the time in the world and we knew it. that's the whole reason i said yes to you.

i wanted to marry you timmy. i wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. i was willing to and i still am willing to. but i ruined it for us. i ruined our only chance at a good life and for a good family. and for that i'm sorry.

please don't hold on to me. please forget about me — forget about us. it'll be for the best.

- rose