Dear you,
Guess the fuck what.
Games are fucking hard to create. Holy shit. I am literally running on coffee and two hours of sleep right now, just because I had to turn in a small portion of my game to my professor by tomorrow night. I'm going to die, I'm sorry but I may never meet you. And you must know I did not die of earthquakes, I died of over exertion on this fucking game that has taken over my god damn life. And if I don't die from it, just know, you may not get these letters until you're seventy, because I have not gone out of my dorm in the last two weeks except for food and classes, and even then it's been a tossup.
God, if I had known it would have taken this long to make just one part of my game I wouldn't have started it now. But hey, now that I have, why would I stop?
Love,
Your SM
YOU ARE READING
Letters to my Soulmate
Short StoryLetters from one soulmate to another, spanning their time apart until they meet at last. warning: character death, angst, possibly more to follow
