chalk it off as existential slowburn -iv

i don't wanna do it. i don't wanna tell you what i think will happen here because i always had hope, always in life i had hope. i wouldn't want to describe a terrible thing to you. i wouldn't want you to misunderstand. it kills me how we fail to come across sometimes. love doesn't need convincing. i doubt you believe in us anymore, actually. can i say that? whereas my sense is you have tried hard and i have tried hard it's just our ways of living here have shifted drastically from how we were raised and it's an ever moving picture whereby we are ever trying to adjust. so, you see, i can and forever love you. i am that way for life, i know i am, and you say you are, too, but i don't know. i don't know why this fucking thing happened and please don't ever tell me again that i'm some broken record, okay, i don't even carry a philosophy to support that kind of talk - about waste and wastelands. i am humbler than when i met you. you gave me this. i am more quiet, it's true, but not necessarily withholding or despising you for talking to me, as you presume. alot of it is just me internally looking at my situation and wondering how i could ever have imagined my life being any less than tragic, in the end... i love you. we've been through a lot and i won't forget you, all i can do now is just live through it with you until maybe i need to live through it without you? i don't know. it's different looking one day to the next. the light. it's just blinding. i gotta close my eyes sometimes.   -fin (from an old letter never was sent)