Dear Rosa,
I can’t imagine a more difficult letter to write than this one. The more I think about it, the harder it becomes. When I tell you these things for real, the fears of rejection are real as well. Authentically, indisputably so.
I’ll stop thinking then, and start writing instead.
When you met me, I was just some boy dying in a hospital bed. You were so kind it nearly killed me that all I could do was lay there. I spent my days smiling up at you from this prison of a broken body, always taking, unable to give you any of the things I wish I could.
Still, you came every day, and you healed me. Maybe my legs still don’t work right, but my heart can fly again, and when I let myself soar the ground doesn’t matter at all.
I never thought I could have a life, but you changed my mind. If you could see that, if you could see how beautiful you are, you’d know why I only want the best for you. I insist that you have that. But look at me, so selfish and imperfect, still dreaming of you. It’s not right. If it were right, it wouldn’t hurt like this.
I will make it right, I promise. The next time we meet, you won’t even recognize me. That sick little boy in the hospital will be a memory long forgotten, and we can say hello for the first time again.
I’m leaving now, off in search of a miracle, and I hope you don’t mind that I carry thoughts of you in my heart. You don’t need to worry, Charles will help me get to where I need to go.
I’ll see you later.
Until then,
Love always,
Adam.
Written for Task #8 of the Second Creative Writing Challenge run by 