Dear Troye,
As I write this at my desk, I can hear you snoring in our bedroom. We really need to figure out a way to stop that. It's annoying me.
I'm writing this letter because I figured it was my turn to write our love story down, like you did for me. Because I have so much love for you that you need to hear about. I hope that you actually get these this time.
Firstly, I would just like to apologize, for the trillionth time. Sometimes I can be a weak and scared person. And sometimes I don't know what to do when I'm a weak and scared person. And when I was getting busier and busier with work, we talked less, and that scared me. But my terror made me even more afraid to try and fix things. It had just turned into a pattern and I didn't know how to solve it. I was an idiot. You had so much love for me, and I didn't know what to do with it. On top of that, I was so hopelessly in love with you that I was absolutely scared shitless.
And then I never got your letters. And eventually I convinced myself that you thought that it was over between us because you didn't seem to care about me. It wasn't over between us, but your absence convinced me that it was. And so I believed it. I wish with all my heart that I had just picked up the phone or Skyped you. I just couldn't. You never asked to see if I got them because you just assumed that my not responding meant that I had stopped caring about you. But you kept writing them, just holding on to some shred of hope that I would respond. That's what kills me the most: how you slowly lost hope in us. Because I did, too.
God, we can both be idiots sometimes.
But then I saw you. I was getting interviewed on some small TV show in New York, and I stopped at Starbucks. And you were there, on your way to some meeting. And when I saw you, it felt like we were back at Playlist Live, meeting for the first time. When I saw you, time became irrelevant. When I saw you, my stomach did something that it hadn't done for years: It got butterflies. And you were even more beautiful than the memories in my head told me. And then, as you know, we talked and then went to a park, and then I realized that I had never truly stopped loving you, as much as I had tried. And then, while we were sitting on that bench, you asked me why I never wrote back. And then I realized that you loved me, too. And you told me you never stopped.
And so here I am, in our apartment, writing this letter to you. Because I love you with everything that I am and everything that I ever will be.
Let this be the first of many love letters to you, Troye boy.
And I promise that this time, they won't be a eulogy.
Love,
Tilly.
