Every morning I wake up and she is gone, and every night I go to sleep and she is back. In my half-dreams I write her sweet, calm letters of my feelings, I imagine her reactions, and finally go to sleep. It’s a daily ritual with no reason. I sometimes wonder how she touched me so deeply, but find no explanations. How is it that the most important moments remain forever mysterious?

Strangely, I haven’t been reliving the mistakes I have made while with her. Maybe I should. But all the mistakes I made seem to be part of the experience. Integral to it, seemingly inseparable from all the good feelings. Of course, I wish I hadn’t made some. I think I hurt her at one point, which I regret and will always regret. She seemed to have forgiven me for it, something incredibly generous of her.

The last message she wrote me will linger in my mind for a long time. When I re-read it, it reminds me that I can be good even when I make mistakes. It’s reassuring, because I often feel like a burden to people around me when I hurt them by mistake.