Flowers

My dear Charlotte,

I don’t even know where to begin. Maybe around the time I first met you, in spring? Not many people are fond of spring and you fit into that category. You always gave me the same excuse that it rained too much and your allergies got the best of you. Personally, I think it’s beautiful and quite poetic. The flowers bloom, accepting the sunlight that hits them with warmth and love. The sun has a great relationship with these plants. Although the sun can also hurt them, I’m sure it doesn’t mean to dry them out with their excessive light on purpose. It only wanted to see them grow and to be the one to provide them with the warmth they needed. It’s a complicated relationship. Honestly, I would love to have a relationship- one like the sun and flowers share. A bittersweet romance... I think it’d be nice. Especially with you, Charlotte. Other than spring, you are the most beautiful entity I have ever come across. Being your best friend just isn’t enough. Back then, I was too scared to tell you this. Even now, but it no longer matters. All that does is the memories we shared and the happiness they bring you when you think about them. As long as you are content, so am I. I’ll continue writing to you, and I can’t wait to see you. I wonder if you’d like that. Would you even remember me? Or would I just bring you pain, maybe even disgust. You used to be so easy to read Charlotte, but now it’s like we never even met. You’re thoughts that I could hear without you having to say a word. It was that simple.... but now you’re nothing more than a stranger. I hope you don’t mind if my next letters are just me reflecting on our memories, both good and bad. One thing I know for sure, is that you still love to be told stories. The smile that you always wore when people would read to you. It was the most mezmorizing thing anyone could lay their eyes on. I was very lucky to see it everyday. It pains me that I can’t see right now. You truly are too beautiful for your own good. Maybe our relationship is like the sun and flowers after all. The sweet angst of it all. If you only knew how much I’ve cried over you. I wonder if it would make you feel bad... probably. I don’t really know anymore. You wouldn’t even hurt an ant if possible. You’re just too good of a human to be cruel and unusual. It’s a little ironic if I’m being honest. You wouldn’t intentionally hurt people, but you hurt me everyday unknowingly. It’s painful because I can’t look at you, or be with you. I can’t even make new memories with you. You’re as evil as you are astonishingly breathtaking. I won’t take up much of your time, so I’ll end this here. I’ll see you soon Char Char.

Love, May.

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