It's 8:53 on a chilly Saturday night in November.
We built this home. Every day, we collected our hopes and dreams to create our foundation. We spent so many nights watching our TV shows together. We spent mornings drinking coffee and eating chocolate chip pancakes on the living room table. We spent many drunken nights and hungover mornings here. I told you my deepest secrets on the bathroom floor. You broke my heart at the front door. We stacked up laughter, adventures, love, and memories to form these four walls.
For as long as I can remember, I have been a hopeless romantic. I love to be loved and to give love in return. And because of this, I have found myself in more heartbreaking circumstances than I care to admit. I have given my love to men who were not able to love me in return. My poor heart has been battered and broken. To the man who loves me next, as much as I want to give my love to you, please don't hurt me.
I look at you, and I know you've been hurt. I can see the pain in your eyes even when you wear your breathtaking smile on your beautiful face. I know you want to move on, but you're afraid your heart will catch fire for someone new because you were burned too many times. Your walls are not meant to keep people out. Instead, those walls are meant to keep your heart in since it has a history of following your significant others blindly.
I cannot tell you how many times I picked up my phone wanting to call you. I cannot tell you how many drunken texts you almost woke up to, but thankfully my friends would stop me from hitting send.
I never thought I would have to write this letter. I never thought I would wake up one morning with dozens of missed calls and texts from your parents. I never thought I would have to dress in all black and attend your funeral.