happy birthday
2:20 p.m.

my angel, always -

It's my birthday in a couple of days, and I'll have lived for twenty years. Of that, I barely had you for a year of it before it all came crashing down. Strange that only a year could shatter all that came before, and leave me creating my life anew from the ashes.

We haven't spoken for almost four months. When I said I wanted time, space, I only thought it would be for a few months. But what you said to me, what you did, what you let, _encouraged_ him to say - I don't suppose I'll ever speak to you again now.

Not because I can't forgive you. I can, I have. But I'm too scared. You said if I ever contacted you again you'd treat me "the way I deserved". You were tired of being kind, you'd show me no mercy. So I'm too scared, you see. Not just that hearing your voice might shatter my fragile world again. But that your voice would be full of disdain, disgust, hatred.

I couldn't bear it.

So I wait for you to contact me, and I begin to suspect you never will. It's my birthday in a couple of days. I wonder if you'll remember? A part of me believes you'll send me a card. I desperately hope that you will, even as I dread it.

Will it even occur to you that it's my birthday? Will you take pleasure in ignoring the fact, or will you not even remember? Will you think of it and be too scared to send me a card, just as I will be on your birthday, or think of it and decide it's better not to?

It's starting to feel like I'll never stop loving you. Like I'll never be free of the knowledge that I found you and lost you, my angel, my soulmate.

Or is that just my own delusion?

Sometimes I think I'm going mad.

I miss you, I love you, and I... I will cry when I open my birthday mail and there is nothing from you in it.

- yours

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