Just a few seconds ago, I was staring in disbelief as I read a very, very long love letter.

It was full of emotions - a mix of sadness, longing, and subtle pleas. It professed love in the most courageous way that I could never have said that to anyone.

It made me very very sad, because it was an open-ended love letter, some courageous risk, that one was willing to take one last time, before things would be for the best.

I was definitely more surprised as I realized that I wrote it.

Could it be possible that my heart has thawed from its icy splendor? I’ve been comfortable in the cold for so long, I’ve ignored its state, and I guess I threw it away in a dungeon that I never bothered to check on it again. When I check on it again, could it be that it’s already warm, beating, and very much alive?
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