You say you are alone as if you don’t realize that you are but a star in the vast network of the sky. There are a billion others gleaming the same light and feelings as you. I know how easy it is to be blinded by the sun into thinking that you are only one even though a million faces shine around you. You still feel alone.
I cannot preach away your sorrow when I sleep deep in the chasms of my own anguish, caught in the midst of my own bitter fairy tales. I cannot imagine how the world is presented to you, or how you’ve chosen to perceive it. I write to you for if you are like me then you did not choose to perceive it the way it still seems to play.
Shamefully, regrettably, I fear we shall never meet again. My words as they are written shall rot away as the days grow old and you will never know that they existed. I will fade back into the faces of the millions and my existence will glide back into the shimmering light of a trillion stars.
You, you will reside as simple memory of everything that never was. You will be laid down as yet another chapter in these books I write. You, a single star, in an entire universe and galaxy. In my books you will be scratched upon the paper with a ballpoint pen. You may live there for eternity inside of my memory and my heart. Ah, for what little I knew of you how I ached to always learn more.