I am writing this letter to you knowing clearly that you will never read it, for the simple reason that I will not send it to you. I won’t send it to you because never ever would I ever dare. At least not in words, because understand, My Love, words are never what we imagined. So many times we imagined heaven on earth, while in reality we were awarded a multifaceted and eternal hell. So many times we told the people we thought were our loved ones, that we loved them, when what we meant to say is xxx, blah-blah-blah, or zero words. Because do you understand, My Dear- and I’m saying this with agony- words do not have any meaning anymore. Same as people no longer have meaning for me in this life that we presumably live so fast, so much, in such apathy, in such unstoppable intensity. And in such great emotion, in such love, let us admit in reality, that, My Dear Beloved, we are not alive. Lives just live us, breathe inside of us, move with us, through us. But the real life, the life I believed that I could have lived, the life I wanted the most is the life that will never flow through me again.