my curls aren't silver and your lips aren't gold.

Dear you,

I've thought of so many different ways to start these letters. And I keep hoping that someday maybe, I can have something written to me or about me or for me the way I write all of the things I write.

But the sad reality is, I've been trying to sleep for the past twenty three minutes with Bon Iver playing in my ears and the air conditioning clicking in the background, and it's just not working. It's not working, as in, I'm not working.

And I keep wanting someone whose hands are bigger than mine and who is too tall and who makes me feel like the little thing I am and for once in my life, acknowledges that I am not invincible. 

You sometimes did that, you know. Except then I sort of hurt you I think with how cold I can be, and yeah, confession, even I sometimes get cold, and you sort of stopped caring so much. 

I'm kind of really sort of maybe sick of people who stop caring.

But that's just it, isn't it? People will always stop caring eventually because what's there to care about an invincible person?

I don't know if any of this even makes sense. I know that you'll never read this. I know that no one will ever really care. But I can't seem to stop trying and writing, anyway.

I guess what I'm really trying to say is, I miss you and your red hair. 

Sincerely (sort of),

xx

Blue