Dear You,

I miss talking to you. I miss having you around.

But with everything that has happened, I don’t even remember how it feels like to have you with me. Figments of how good things were linger, but mostly, I only feel remnants of pain.

Maybe I just miss the idea of you; of having someone to actually write these letters to.

I guess nothing is more miserable than this horrible feeling of longing for nothing.

Always,
Charlie