Dear Sam,
Sometimes I don't want to breathe, not for the lack of air or it's shortage but the difficulty of taking it in. Many times, I've attempted running away, not like I know where I am running to but life always stops me on my tracks. I just keep breaking, one part goes off, I fix it, and another one goes. I am always fixing and it's quite exhausting.
Yesterday I opened the box of letters you sent through the mail man months ago. Yes, it's the first time I am opening it since I received it. I love the little book you sent with the box but I soaked it in water and swallowed it; I have become the disease of mad men. I do not even comprehend the words I write but I hope you do. I also hope I find the words to respond to your letters that's if I don't run.
Yours in running
Me
Sometimes I don't want to breathe, not for the lack of air or it's shortage but the difficulty of taking it in. Many times, I've attempted running away, not like I know where I am running to but life always stops me on my tracks. I just keep breaking, one part goes off, I fix it, and another one goes. I am always fixing and it's quite exhausting.
Yesterday I opened the box of letters you sent through the mail man months ago. Yes, it's the first time I am opening it since I received it. I love the little book you sent with the box but I soaked it in water and swallowed it; I have become the disease of mad men. I do not even comprehend the words I write but I hope you do. I also hope I find the words to respond to your letters that's if I don't run.
Yours in running
Me
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