Letters to Romeo

"When your mad, or sad, or just too damn emotional, write them a letter to the person causing your issues. Address the letter too them, and write whatever you wish to say to them. You'll feel better about it afterwards."

Those are the words my mother used to tell me, before she passed away. The day she passed, I decided to take her advice. Every day, I would write a letter to someone. They were't addressed to anyone in particular; I didn't have anyone to blame. I placed them in the nooks and crannies of what I though was my own little spot, and it became my own little Verona courtyard. How was I supposed to know that it wasn't just my own special place.

More importantly, how in the hell was I supposed to know he would read my letters?