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Dearest Delilah

Dearest Delilah,

Today is the 30th of November. My birthday. This day forces me to face the truth. I survived one more year without you. I never thought it would be possible, a life without you. How could I even try to enjoy this life, if I'm not with you? Every morning I wake up without you beside me. Every day I have breakfast without you. And every day I take the subway without you.

I come home alone, to an empty house. It hurts me to think of the time we could have spent together. The only thing that gives me even a shred of happiness is hope. Hope that we will be together soon. Hope that you will finally see me; see me, as the one for you.

I know a lot about you. I know that your favourite colour is yellow, but you never wear it, because you think it makes you look ill. It doesn't by the way. I know that your favourite book is “Lolita”, by Vladimir Nabokov . But you don't tell anyone that. You're afraid they'll think differently of you. I know that you have a journal that you never let anyone read. You keep it in your last bedside drawer. I know what you write in it too. Fascinating stuff really.

I know that you have a tattoo. I didn't expect that. A butterfly tattoo on your right hip. Who would have known that a nice, Catholic girl like you would have a tattoo? I bet your parents don't know about it. It makes me wonder what other secrets you keep from them.

I saw you today. With him. Alex. I know he isn't really your friend. At least he doesn't want to be. He wants more. More of you. I can't blame him of course. I see the way he looks at you. Like you hung the stars. Like you're the most gorgeous thing he has ever seen. Like you're HIS. But you're not. You don't want him like that. Or maybe that is just something I tell myself every day so that I wouldn't have to do something to hurt you. Or him.

You like talking to him. I see you smiling at him across the table at the diner you go to everyday. To have lunch. With him. You rely on him. You call him when you're feeling sad. And he comes running. Why? Because he wants you. He doesn't want to be your friend. He wants to take advantage of you.

You don't have a great choice in friends, do you? Before Alex, it was Tracy. And God, I did not like Tracy. She was holding you back. All her complaining and clinging on to you, it irritated me. And I know it irritated you too. I know that because I know you. So you let her go. It wasn't easy for you. Being alone. Having no friends, again. But then you found him. Alex. You could have waited. You could have found someone better than him.

But it's okay. Soon you will see his true colours. And you will come to me. Because I'll always be here, in the shadows for you. In the diner you go to everyday. On the sidewalks when you’re passing by. And in your bedroom when you’re sleeping.

You didn't go to work today. I know you're not sick. I saw you looking as beautiful as ever. Then why the break from work? Is there something going on? Something I don't know about? Are you hiding something from me? You really shouldn't, my love. I have a way of always finding out the truth.

It would scare other people. If they knew of the things I would do for you. I would steal for you. I would die for you. I would kill for you, Delilah. You are my everything. My obsession. My heart. My reason to live. I love you, Delilah. You'll know that soon enough.

Some days, I want you to know who I am. I want to meet you. Touch you. Talk to you. We have a lot in common, you know. We both hate spinach. We both hate wearing shoes inside the house. We both love art. But I can't talk to you. Not yet. You're not ready yet.

See I have a plan. I've thought it all out. Our first meeting. Our first conversation. Our first date. All our firsts. It will be perfect. You will fall in love with me. And we will live happily ever after.

I wanted to touch you today. To feel your skin against mine. So, I did. Did you know that you snore when you sleep? It's an adorable sound, really. You look sweet when you're sleeping. Vulnerable. I imagined you wore those soft, tiny shorts just for me. To feel my calloused hand run up your smooth calf. Up, up and up. But you'll never even know I was there. You're a deep sleeper. And I'm quiet. Always quiet.

I can still feel the warmth of your skin on my hand. It feels nice. Like home.

I found a quote from your favourite writer, Ernest Hemingway.

"All you have to do is write one true sentence. Write the truest sentence you know."

So, this is my one true sentence. You are mine and I am yours Delilah, whether you know it or not.

I'm counting down the days till we finally meet. Till our life together finally starts. It's not far now. And when it finally arrives, it will be perfect. We will be perfect. Forever.

I hope this letter helps you realise the truth. That I'm the only one you need. Your friend. Your mentor. Your lover.

See you soon, my love.

Yours truly,



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