Dear me,
.
Remember the times we used to walk together under the sun and the bright blue sky?
Because I do.
I remember all of them. How you and I used to speak and relieve our soul from its misery.
I want to tell you something, me. Don’t let anyone break you. Don’t let anyone tell you that you’re miserable — or different, abnormal. No matter what, you are yourself, a beautiful, strong, creative and loved you.
You can be anything, if you want. You can be more than a shadow in the yearbook or on the floor on anywhere. You are unique.
I don’t remember the last time you spoke to me or I to you. But I know that you need it, because I need it.
I need to talk to you, me. I need to see your shadow on the asphalt and hear your voice once again, telling me all the unfairness in the entire world. I need you to tell me who I am. I need you to help me figure out what I am supposed to be. Help me.
But now you’re gone. And there is not coming back. Not from this.
All that is left of us is just a mere machine with no feelings.
And all I see now when I walk alone without you is the bitter bitter blue of the sky.
.
.