I Wrote You A Letter Just In Case You'd Like To Read Someday

I have read the letters you have written to someone else. They were never meant for me, I know that much whenever I look at the words put you put down.

It's shocking to me sometimes when I see the amount of time that had passed, the vibrancy with which you had lived your life, and the absolute lows it has brought you to. Shocking, not because you had felt these lows, but that I continued to live serenely in an uneventful limbo, completely unaware of what was happening.

At times I wonder, if I knew what I know now - would I have been able to do a thing? After all, I had believed that you carried on on your own path, as I had always admired you for doing.

A part of me wonders why you would keep these words - why they would be left in a place where I could find them. I do not know if you had ever intended for anyone to read them and see you in them.

Did you write these words hoping to unburden yourself? Did you write them in the hopes that another might just gain some benefit from them? Did you hope that the ones that hurt you would read them, and find some measure of understanding?

Yet, I did.

The one to comb over your words was me - and I know it was uninvited. But still, I did.

I'm afraid that you may hate me for this. That you would no longer feel the same trust for me as you once did - perhaps do.

I would like to believe that I could see parts of you, parts of the whole, and now I can see a little more than I did before.

But I know that the words were not meant for me. I think a part of you knows who were meant to read them - or at least you had hoped would read them.

As it I am the one to find those words you had left - I shall leave these here, for you...