♥️ Happy Valentines Day! ♥️

Warning: This is a little weird (but I like what I did with it anyway).

-Jaz

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The Letter

The page was destroyed.

So was it's content.

The words written on it in an unorganized jumble. Words were written on top of each other while others had been scratched out. Some had been scratched out so badly that the paper had been ripped. It looked as if the writer had been in a hurry. But as the letter was read it was clear the writer had been frantic, crazed, psychotic.

Some sentences switched mid word to something else.

At one point it had spoken about a special pine tree before it suddenly switched to death and glory. Another time the words had switched from the writer pouring out their feelings to death threats.

Some words didn't make sense at all. They were a mixture of Ancient Greek and English as its writer's mind had been lost. Or at least teetering on the edge.

These were the words of a person fighting with themselves. Battling the monster within. But as more and more was read it was clear they may have won a small battle, but the writer were losing the war.

When she had found the letter it had been torn, frayed and destroyed. It appeared as if someone had ripped it up time and time again only to tape it back together. It's tape had fallen off and pieces of the writer's precious words were being lost, fluttering away in the wind and disintegrating over time.

She wasn't sure when it was written.

It's date had been crossed out and redone over and over again. It had become a mess or black and blue ink fighting with each other to stand out through the chaos of scribbles.

Over the years the paper only feel apart more and more and she strained to keep track of it. What was left had begun to fray and its ink began to fade. It took a long time but she finally found a way of preserving what was left, but it wasn't important anymore, she had already memorized its regranted words.

Those words she would always cling to.

As she grew older, and older the words would never leave her. She would say them over and over to herself in the darkness as she tried to sleep. She would recite it on the writer's birthday, on her own, on the anniversary of when she found it, on Valentines, or when she simply couldn't move forward without thinking of them.

The words had varying affects on her. Sometimes it would comfort her, other times it would inspire nostalgia. Often it would make her wish things had been different. Though most often she'd recite its words and find tears in her eyes.

Those words, that jumbled mess that called itself a letter was engraved in her mind, but it's words had different meanings at different times. At times the writer was calling for help, others they were having a conversation, occasionally it seemed the writer was on a rant, but then she'd read it again and think she was reading a story, or a suicide note.

Though while her perception of the note constantly changed and made her unsure, there was always two things we're sure of. That the letter was for her, from him. She knew because of what he had written in the very end.

She knew because of the last words he had written which she had long since memorized,

I'm scared, I don't know which thoughts are mine, and which are his anymore. I know with the ways things are it'll never work. But you need to know two things: 1, I'm thankful for everything done for me, and two, I love you Thals. If only things had been different.

When she had finished silently reciting the words to herself she wasn't surprised to find tears in her eyes or to find the smile on her face.

And even though she had said them many times before she was surprised by the words which escaped her lips without, her brain's consent. "If only things had been different... then I wouldn't have found out from a letter..."