I’m depressed. I feel like I can’t talk to you without having to expose my deepest and darkest secrets. You made me so happy, almost unimaginably so, and now we are over. I should move on, I know I should. But I can’t. I can’t just ignore what we have—-had. It’s sad you know, thinking about how open we were, how easily exposed to emotions we let ourselves become. I’m here slowly dying. I wonder if you feel the same. If you ever felt the same way.