Everytime Marie-Anne falls in love but it ends up being nothing, she writes a letter to end that time. She spills her heart out, addresses the envelopes, closes them... And puts then in an old hat box her mom gave her. Until one day that the letters...
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I love saving things. More specifically, weird things. Like clocks made from porcelain, the ones I can find in souvenir stores. Or baking forms no one's ever gonna use. Who in the world would want a cake in the form of a foot? Hair clips. Love letters. From all those things that I just named the love letters are my most treasured collected. I keep them in a reddish brown hat box my mom once bought in a second hand store. Also they aren't for me from someone else; I don't get those. I wrote them myself. For each boy that I ever loved, they're five. When I write, I write my heart and spirit out. Because they'll never see them anyways. They're not real real love letters but more like a goodbye to that boy. Cuz after I wrote it I feel better and I stop thinking about them. Then I can eat my breakfast without thinking: "What if he's eating pancakes too at the moment?" I can sing along to love songs without singing them for him. My letters set me free... Well that's the whole point of writing them.
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