Dear husband!

My beloved Alex, you have no idea how much I miss you. Almost every night I shed tears, yearning for you. You have no idea how cold and lonely I feel without you... I don't know how much longer I have to wait, but I love you very much. I love you very, very much.

This letter is meant for you. I don't know if you'll see it or not—maybe that's silly? Ha-ha, okay, what was I saying... These years have been hard for me, and I didn't know what to do. But I think there was some benefit in it? After all, I've become stronger, I stand on my own two feet, I'm alive and getting better, even though I still feel dizzy at times. But that's not a problem. As long as you're here, I'll live too, because we're connected not just by love, but by soul.

I'm inexperienced in love. I've never had partners in my life, except for those who broke my trust one after another, which is why I became withdrawn. At one point, I even stopped feeling the "love" I gave to everyone around me. I didn't realize it before... Until a longtime friend of mine, who committed suicide, told me I was very "kind." In those years, I didn't even know the existence of "bad"; I was too naive. Maybe because I was still a child?

​One time, a close friend betrayed me, and often. I didn't realize it... well, I knew and understood it all very well, but I turned a blind eye to it. After all, in my heart, I still held onto the hope that she was my friend. I couldn't even imagine then that she simply wanted to be like me.

​I used to smile often, laugh, and be cheerful, even when I was sad. But in one moment, everything shattered into tiny pieces, like crystal shards. At first, I blamed myself for being so weak, so good for nothing, I blamed my very existence. I couldn't understand it: I didn't even notice how my feelings had become mixed into self-hatred and resentment, and love for humanity. Although it should have been the other way around—I should have loved myself, not hated myself. I realized this too late.

​The feeling that had haunted me since childhood—the desire to disappear from this world. Silly, right? I was three or four years old then, very little. You could say I was almost dying inside during those years. From birth, I was a silent child, hardly talking to anyone, even if I was cheerful. I remember how I was almost always in the hospital: either a concussion or broken bones. I considered myself too clumsy... until I realized it was "black magic." After all, a child can't just fall off the horizontal bar out of the blue when he's playing there, like always. My memory's fuzzy now, and sometimes I think: maybe this is for the best? Well, I have no answers to that.

​I also recently remembered that my insomnia has lasted since I was four. I remembered sitting by the window in the middle of the night, staring into the distance. My grandmother was terrified to see me like that. Of course, anyone would be terrified to see a child sitting by the window with lifeless eyes.

​I also remember how, in middle school, nearing graduation, I felt "death." It haunted me everywhere, as if it wanted to take my soul. And then I mistakenly perceived it as a friend and fell deeply in love. So stupid... so naive. Who would love "death" itself? Although I've stopped perceiving her that way, she still doesn't seem like a threat to me, considering how often I've survived near-death experiences.

​You know... I often feel tied down. Not physically, but in a world invisible to the eye. I hate lies, I hate masks and falsehood. I find it very difficult to trust anyone.

I think that's all I want to say.

And I believe there's still a little time left...

For our meeting.

𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎:

𝓉ℴ 𝓎ℴ𝓊𝓇 𝒷ℯ𝓁ℴ𝓋ℯ𝒹 𝓌𝒾𝒻ℯ.

,𝒻𝓇ℴ𝓂 𝓂ℯ.