Perustis Flamma

Bitter Sweet Sentimentality

Everything has some sort of sentimental value, no? Like a picture. Or multiple pictures. Or something as— mundane as a cup, a mug. A pencil. Ah, yes. Funny how a kiss can make something desired, or hated. Or both. 

That's not all though. You could have been walking along until you stumbled upon a little note, a letter. It barely hanging on to your drenched, freshly polished shoe. Snatch it from your heel, and read that it is addressed to no one in particular, but a lonely girl's "prince". Her white knight on his stead. It's beautifully eloquent, and the gorgeous prose bejeweling your eyes with crystalline waves. And it wasn't just a letter, I know, because I read it. It was a plea, for help. A question of where. Where was her knight in shining armor? At first, I thought it was ostentatious. But it had a deeper meaning. The letter wasn't just a question of where; it was a question of why. Why this— person was lonely, had no one to love. She was never asking for someone who was perfect in every way, though that's what it had stated in the address, she was looking for someone who was perfect in every way to her. And now I understand completely. I almost wish I was the one who had held the quill to that page. It was heartfelt. I feel as though that letter was written for me to see. That's why I've kept it for over a year―