Dear Her, There is a pain in watching your lover love someone else. A pain that cuts deep, an ache that's planted, the roots digging so far into the earth's soil it would be impossible to pull it out. There is a pain in knowing this is inevitable, inescapable. But I'm afraid. I'm afraid no one will read this letter. That no one will find out how deep Harry can love, how it consumes every fiber of your whole being that you fear you may burst from it, as if it will pour out of pores, overflow your veins. I have a deep pain admitting that I am jealous if you are reading it. I am jealous of the life you live, full and content, the world at your fingertips, ready to snap at your command. It might not feel like it. But you are alive. So it is. Your ability not only to love, but to be loved, is a gift, one I envy even from my grave. Do not take it for granted, for I wish my feet still walked this earth to reverse all the times I did. Take care of him, .... ______________________________________ "if life can remove someone you never dreamt of losing, it can replace them with someone you never dreamt of having."
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