Literally everything reminds me of you. But that’s a good thing. I want to remember you.

I love you, Alex. I never told you outright, but I do.

I was telling my aunt Marjan about you a few weeks ago. I said I really, really liked you. No, seriously liked you. She understood what I was really saying: Love.

I said I was scared you didn’t feel the same way about me. She told me not to worry. “Enjoy your love,” she said. But I didn’t really get to enjoy it. It’s sad. I was robbed of loving you, of giving you my heart.

Scratch that. I did give you my heart.

I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.

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