Rabba

What I get : the burning fires of hell which strip my younger of taste receptors for a week after which all food tastes the same; burnt

It was about a woman, it was a declaration of my undying love and the overwhelming sadness I felt upon leaving her to go back home and it was honest. It wasn’t just binary emotions, there was fear of her not liking me enough, predictions for the future and one part about how I would probably never send her this letter which turned into a diary entry due to it not being sent and now, nearly a year later without contact or even a single word spoken in between us, I feel that love was honest and pure and the only regrets I should harbour are of the pain we caused each other by combusting so spontaneously