My beautiful Harry,
It's been just over a month since the last letter, nearly two since I first went to the doctors. I think you know that something's wrong, how could I expect you not to? You keep giving little worried glances, thinking that your being subtle. You really aren't making it easy for me to not just spill everything. Saying that, I think if I told you at this point, you'd probably kill me yourself just for lying to you for so long.
It's getting harder to talk without stuttering or slurring. Maybe you think I'm and alcoholic. Have you booked me an Alcoholics Anonymous session? That sounds like something you'd do. I keep forgetting to take the bins out as well. You must be really worried because last time you didn't even scold me for it. I honestly didn't think I'd ever see the day where I would get away with not doing any housework. I guess every cloud does have a silver lining. Although this is more of a huge ass thunderstorm.
I know that the days I have left with you are slipping away. I've been trying not to think about it, to just make the most of every second that I spend with you, but it's always there, in the back of my mind. Like last week when you wanted to watch the fault in our stars and I had to change your mind because I just couldn't bear to watch it. I know how much you cry at that film so I can't even imagine how you'll feel when it becomes your reality. I cry every time I think about the pain that you're about to go through. And you have no idea. I'm so fucking sorry.
I don't think I can write anymore today, I'm about to start getting tears all over the paper.
I love you,
Louis
