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#TheLetters

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    Dear

     No, it wasn’t good enough. It wasn’t

     right, there was something missing

      or maybe it was all a mistake after all.

    Dearest …

     Wrong again. Too personal. Or who knew?

     It was too late now. Lydia had already

      scribbled our the few words, the ink

      staining her fingertips. It stung as the

      dark substance mingled with her raw and

     picked fingers.

    To whom it may concern

     Who was she kidding? This wasn’t a

      letter of recommendation or a note she

     was sending to some anonymous stranger.

     But how to start? She didn’t realise that she

     would struggle so much with the beginning.

     A beginning, that was supposed to be the

     easiest part. There’s so much she had to

     say, explain, understand. So many questions.

     Maybe the reason why she couldn’t start

     this letter was because she didn’t want

     to.

     She flicked the crumped up sheets lain

     across from her, hoping that some sort

      of inspiration would suddenly appear.

      Lydia wished that her feelings, thoughts,

     glimpses of past memories could all just

     write themselves down. It is was infuriating.

    To You!

     You, yes you. Who else would this be to

     if not you. I am angry and writing to you

     just so that you can understand how I

     feel, just so that you can yourself feel

     and ounce of my discouragement and

     unhappiness.

     Who knows if you’ll actually feel how

     I feel right now. You would think that

     after a few months, filled with silence,

     that all would’ve been forgotten. But

     nothing, not one single memory, word,

     action has been forgotten since you left

     me that day at the Lake.

     I still think about it. I think about how you

     gave me so much hope, only to rip it away.

     And I hate you for it, I despise you and

     hope to never see you again! … I …

      The words faded away. She hated every

      word she had just written because half of

     it wasn’t true. She didn’t want to harm or

     hurt the other. She never would. She had

      tried to move past her feelings, to try and

     find happiness elsewhere… Yet, she wouldn’t

     be writing this letter if she had or really

      wanted to.

      Lastly, she didn’t hate her. She really didn’t.

     It pained her to even reread the sentence.

     Hate was such a dreadful sentiment, one

     she felt for nobody and hope she never

      would, especially not /her/. It was a word

      flung around so carelessly and Lydia had

      grad it in a state of temporary confusion and

     anger.

      She crumped up the harsh and offhand, spur-

     of-the-moment letter. Muttering the word

     'Locomotor' under her breath and watching

      the piece of paper fly into the bin, followed

     quickly by the other crumped up sheets of

     paper.

      Lydia’s space was now clear, she could focus

     as she brought out a new sheet of paper,

     dipping her quill one more time.

    Halley,

     I hope you’re doing well.

      It was a good start, nothing too abrupt,

     caring yet not too enthusiastic. It gave

     Lydia courage and she continued to write.

     It’s been a while since we’ve seen or

     or spoken to one another. I miss you.

     I understand the absence of one another’s

     presence… to a certain extent.

     I have to it that after even telling

     myself to listen to my mind, I still listen

     to my heart and I believe I should. I still

     have feelings for you. You hurt me

     ittedly but I wish to understand.

     This all leads me to ask you to meet me.

     I will be going to the Masked Spring Ball.

     If you decide to me then I see hope,

     or at least a further understanding. If not,

     you’ll never hear from me again.

     Yours truly,

     Lydia.

     Nothing was left to say or maybe there was

     too much to be simply placed onto paper.

     She folded the letter in two, after slowing

     blowing on the ink, hoping it would dry faster.

     She didn’t need to doubt herself any longer.

     She attached the letter to her owl’s leg and

     whispered a few words to it. She fed it a

      small treat then shooed it away.

      Watching it fly away into the night made her

     feel relieved. It was about time she filled

      these blank pages.

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    Outro thing (?)

     So yeah, this blog was actually in my

      drafts and I randomly ran across it so

     decided to finish it with a few changes

     here and there ~

      And bye now :runner: ‍♀ :kissing_cat:

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