Those two words “Dear Emma,” take me away to another time,
when we used to write to each other after Mom dan Dad died.
I used to tell you about my new friends and my new life.
And you used to tell me about the grand time my mom and dad were having in heaven.
Truth is nothing.
What you believe to be true is everything.
And the main thing that I used to believe
was that I would be with you forever. Forever.
The reason it has taken me so long to write to you
is that I see that I have been a fool.
I’ve spent my life fooling myself.
Every letter I’ve ever written to you has been a love letter.
How could the have been anything else?
I can see now that all of them, except this one, were bad love letters.
Bad love letters beg for love back.
Good love letters ask for nothing.
This, I’m pleased to announce, is my forst good love letter to you,
because there is nothing more for you to do.
You’ve already done everything.
I have enough of you in my head to last forever.
So please don’t ever worry about me.
I’m peachy. I really am.
I have everything.
If I had one wish, it would be that your life
brings you a taste of the happiness you have brought to me,
that you can feel what it’s like to love.
Your friend forever,