Mom used to tell me writing could make you feel better, and it could fix everything. It could spill emotion through words in such a way that it either hit you like bullets or wrapped you in a warm hug. If writing could destroy the last bit of confidence and hope in Destiny, I didn't see why writing could lift her spirits up and convey all that she needed to know about my feelings for her.
I didn't like her being silent, because I imagined a war raging through her mind and she wouldn't let it out or share her pain. I didn't want her to suffer anymore, and knowing it was partially my fault, I couldn't let anything come between us. There was already much going on that I needed to clear up, and if she didn't listen to me, I had to force it through words on paper. I didn't know any other way.
