My Dearest Xxxxxxxx,
One hundred days and I have gained but an inch of myself back. I have changed, I am no longer the person I once was. I am breathing, my heart is beating, but I am not alive. Tonight, I hurt. Tonight, I remember it all.
It was not my choice to indulge in these memories. I don’t want for a second to think of you, but I do. My insides, they ache, they burn to no avail. No amounts of alcohol, no distraction can ever keep my mind free of you. I can’t hide and I won’t hide how I truly feel.
I have died a hundred deaths. One for each and every day. Yet on the morning of every birth, I seem to find you yet again. By noon, I am smitten at the sight of you. Nightfall, and I realise that I have fallen for you once more. You are my single greatest weakness, the One person I cannot do without.
I am trying to keep it together, but I am falling apart. I can’t tell which way is north. I can’t differentiate between dreams and reality. I am disgusted at myself as I look at the bottle in front of me. It has been my companion of choice for many months. It is bitter and intoxicating. No good has ever come from it, yet I indulge in the temporary relief this elixir provides to me.
So once more, tears streaming down my face, I retire. Once more, I confess. One hundred days and I still Love You. One hundred days, and I am no closer to letting you go.