All The Love, H (H.S.)

one

Olivia,

You always used to tell me that writing was an entrance to the soul.  It allows us to express ourselves fully, create a world in which the limit is solely your own imagination, and to heal even the deepest of wounds.  I never experienced this myself, but I saw it through you.  I watched you journal daily; writing down your deepest thoughts, things  that I didn't even know.  I watched the calm it brought you, the balance you felt after your daily journal or the joy you experienced after jotting down a crazy idea for that novel you always wanted to write. 

But I also watched you suffer your greatest frustrations at the hand of that pen.  I saw you throw your papers at the wall when you couldn't see your next plan of action, shed tears when you poured out your heart into your journal and want to quit in the face of rejection, over and over again.  And because of this I never took up the hobby.  I never allowed your claim that I had a way with words to persuade me into entering the world which you loved and hated at the same time. 

But now after everything we've gone through, I thought I'd give it a shot.  I figure if you swore on the magical powers of writing down your thoughts that maybe it might help me like it's helped you time and time again.  And so, given that you are the person that inspired this and all, what better to write about then the story of us? The story about how Harry Edward Styles from Cheshire fell in love with Olivia Scarlett Bennett from Illinois. 

But don't be too hard on me, okay love? I've only just started this whole writing thing, and I can't guarantee that  I'm the best of storytellers.  And don't forget that although its our story, I'm the one telling it, so just because you swear it didn't quite happen that way, its not up for debate.

All the Love,

H