[Letter] Girls with writing talent. Talk to me and don't stop.

365 texts love

Goal of the day: 222 words. Written: 681.

When I started reading your letter, I immediately felt that I had better expect the unbelievable.

...I've read. I didn't run my eyes over the text, I drank in every letter you wrote. Every syllable, word, sentence and paragraph.

And with each paragraph, my heart, well, my whole body, was getting hotter.

The endless heat that only comes with falling in love or lying on a green meadow under the summer sun. It's true that the fact that I'm sitting in my warm jumper has probably had an influence. My cheeks and cheeks are probably glowing with the bright red of rose petals right now. If not brighter.

* * *

...I've read. And I enjoyed it.

That feeling that comes so rarely. The feeling that so many people crave so much that they lose their heads. I wonder if I haven't lost it yet? After all, madmen don't usually know they're mad, do they?

I enjoyed it. The fact that it's all temporary. That whatever warmth I have now (and it's still there!) will fade. The warmth will end. My heart will stop beating to the rhythm of the wheels of the train. And one day we will have to part.

And yes - we MUST stand out. But I secretly hope (because I don't want to look like some kind of life-planned-for-you lunatic) that it will only happen with the death of one of us. Sometime far in the future. Very far away.

I'd like that. Probably. I still don't know you, after all. But as much as I know you, I get endless inspiration to write, create and dream.

And that is wonderful. How I love this state of mind!

* * *

...I've read. And I listened to your words. Your thoughts. Your confessions.

I don't know how much you like reading my letters (especially letters like this one), but reading your letters, your messages... Especially the ones that end with little hearts, with "Dear", with "D.", even with just a silly little smile like "(:"...

...I confess. Every time I fall in love with you again.

Well, well, well - I'm intrigued. But we both know that real love will only come later, at least when I return and we can meet and see each other's real faces, not those created through letters and electronic screens based on three colours.

But, under the thunderstorms, the word sounds so vivid here! So much more poetic and... open. And to be open... Especially with you... It's so moving! I've never been a very open guy. In fact, I was only open with my first girlfriend.

Back when I hadn't yet been corrupted by a book about hanging girls.

Fui. Hanging. As if a girl were an object you could hang in your closet, pull out occasionally for show and forget about later!

* * *

...I've read. And the further I went, the more I felt the heat.

First of all, it was the heat in my heart. Then it was in my chest. Then in the jaws, in the hands... Even in the ears.
At the beginning, I didn't hear anything. Then I felt a smile on my face... And I heard the music we love to listen to so much - like the one I sent today.

I saw your words first. Then I saw your feelings, your openness... YOU.

I closed my eyes. I fell into bed. I dreamt. I don't know how long, but probably at least half a full hour. I lay there and I imagined you next to me. I imagined your face when we met. Your face as you slept. Your smile.

And surprisingly, even after half an hour, I still feel as good as I did at the beginning.

* * *

...I've read. And I felt amazing.

Si, if I had one request for you, it would be this - don't stop writing. Keep writing. Speak. Create. Creativity is your power... And your creativity moves me.


One day these letters of ours will have to be collected in one book. And write more letters, more stories and more crazy confessions. The authors will be Si and D. The cover will have a green peat and clouds. And on the other side of the cover, inside, will be our faces. And thoughts.

Si, we'll part ways. It is inevitable. It will hurt one of us more, but it will happen. But let it happen when I have travelled the world with you. When I have written thirty-three books dedicated to you. When I have picked every corner of your brain. And when I know you feel amazing. Despite our separation.

And now? What now?

No pain now. Now there is no sadness. The worst thing is only anxiety and fear about what you will say to my letters and thoughts. But it is not too bad.

If, when I come back and discover your shortcomings, which you are always talking about, I realise that it's better for us not to talk anymore... At least I'll be glad that I had the chance to talk to you.

* Smile back *

* * *

...I've read. And I read it. And I liked it.

I was dreaming. And thought. And then I wrote. Because it's so crazy fun to write to you. And don't you dare tell me not to answer YOUR letters. That would be rude, right?

Reading letters,

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