Letters And Cookies

Letter Two

Dear Lizzie,

      I know you fight your own battles, everyday. I know it's hard. I fight mine, too. I thought I would write you this letter, to let you know I'm here for you.

 Damn, I wish I could do it for you. I wish I could fight for you, I wish I could hurt instead. But I can't. This isn't the Hunger Games. I can't voulenteer. I would be a tribute every year if it meant you would be safe from tragedy, safe from fear, but I can't be. Your pain isn't something I can endure for you.

 But maybe I can take it away. Maybe I can lift it.

 I want you to know that first of all, I'm here. I'm always willing to stay up all night to tell you you're beautiful or call you every night to make sure you've eaten dinner. I'm always willing to prove to you that you you have worth when someone tells you that you don't. I'm always willing to tell you to put the razor down, if that's what you need me to do.

 I fight, too; I know the struggle. Everyone has had pain, everyone has had a war inside them. Some people have rock-paper-scissors, and some people have WWII. I can help you fight. I can help you win.

 You're going to win, I know it. You're going to be glorious as you arise from the ashes, screaming that you're alive, and stronger.

 I added the song Safe & Sound as the media. When the enemy of your inner war fires the cannons, just listen to this song and think of me. Maybe I'll even write you a lullaby myself someday.

      Love you forever,
                      Ja