Hey. I'm still holding on to the hope I'll bump into you someday. And maybe trip over my coffee cup on you and you could scold me. I'll treat you to chocolate something maybe and you'd forgive me. (Read the letter, you-know-who) Hi. I know it's an awkward way of starting a letter. Especially when I've been underground for a while. But that doesn't mean I don't remember you. I read your last email often. I read your emails often. The ones scolding me. The ones establishing our weird language. The ones where I have scolded you. And the ones with one overprotective elder brother. I love you, you weird and happy and cranky, peach colour hating person. I've been meaning to write to you. I just didn't know what. I still don't know what. Sometimes I can't wrap my head around the fact that I grew so attached to you and that I'm still so attached. Hey. I'm not nuts. But I've often played out conversations in my head about how you'd react to things I would say to you. You know even now, my first instinct on things is to tell you. And then I remember I can't. I love your firebrand. I know I disappear from time to time but she makes me feel a little better. A little normal. A little of the normal you two together made me feel. She's the one who gave me the push I needed to write to you. Hey. I'm still holding on to the hope I'll bump into you someday. And maybe trip over my coffee cup on you and you could scold me. I'll treat you to chocolate something maybe and you'd forgive me.
