To You,
I never could read, I only learned how to write. My parents never encouraged me to read. Upon the few times I was in contact with a book when I was younger, most notably at a library of some institution, every single book I picked up I would read the last page first. I would always read the last page first because I thought, as I do now, that the last page was always the best page. When the author would leave the reader with a banger, something that was memorable, something that was everlasting. I never cared to read the pages in between, because I thought they didn’t matter as much as the last page. Everyone loves a good plot, but I don’t care about plot. I care about perspective. My perspective has changed a lot since then. I figured most of you wouldn’t read this, so I did you the favor of putting the last sentences of each of the sections here. This is both for my and your pleasure. I won’t blame you if this is all too much to handle. After I give you these sentences, you may choose to finish the book at your will. Christmas came early this year. Like I said, the ending is always the most important. And that’s why I have you. Our love, believe me, will live forever. I want you to title our book, because like I said Daniela, this is truly a gift to you. The gifts I bring you may welcome unpleasant smells and temporary blindness, but that’s what happens when you mess around with love. I want to tell our story, what we have together, and where we’re going. I’ve been writing since the day I met you. Only, now, because the time is right, will I show the world what we’ve done together. Most of these things damn near killed me to write about. But through you feeding me, helping me, and touching me, I am made holy again.
