Dear Rosie,

I miss you. There, I said it. I miss you. I wish you were here with me, just like before. Remember last year, when we in the park and we saw the mime? I laughed harder than I ever had before that day. It still brings a tear to my eye, even now. The mental image of seeing you pushing him into the lake when he pinched your butt will stay with me for years to come. And remember that day when we got the ice creams and it was so hot that by the time I went for the first bite of mine, the whole thing had melted? It was everywhere. Don’t you remember, Rosie? My hands, my trousers, my shirt… they all smelt of vanilla for ages. And that day that we went swimming in the lake and we had our first kiss; that was magic. I hope you remember it as well as I do, wherever you are now. I remember the day you left me, Rosie. You kissed me, said that you loved me, and when I tried to say it back, you’d already gone. I hated you, Rosie, for leaving me like that. I hated you, but now I realise that it was because I love you so much. You’re in my dreams, Rosie, and I hope I see you again some day. You were my first love, and I’ve never gotten over you. You were right, though; Miranda did have a thing for me. But I blew her off, Rosie, in the vain hope that you still loved me. She said that you probably did, but seeing that I haven’t heard from you in so long, I wouldn’t know.

How long has it been now? Three years, by my last count. I’m still yours, Rosie. Forever and a day, Rosie. Sometimes, when I can’t sleep, I ask myself why you left. Was it something I did that drove you away? Miranda and I are best friends now. She still likes me, but I don’t want to be unfaithful to you, so we stay friends. She says that I’m going to have to let you go at some point, but I know that I can’t. I can’t help it, Rosie. I still love you. Sometimes, I imagine you getting your big break and accomplishing your dream of being a singer. I kid myself into thinking that that’s the reason you don’t talk to me anymore, that you’re too busy living the high life out west somewhere. Anyway, like I said, Rosie, I miss you so much, and I wish you were here.

I hope that, somehow, this letter gets to you, even though I don’t know your address. I told the postman to keep it circulating in case you claimed it. He just smiled sadly and told me he would. I’ve left school, now, Rosie. My dreams paid off; I got a book published, and I dedicated it all to you. If you get the chance, see if you can find a copy, Rosie. The words in that little book can’t fully explain how I feel about you; no words can, but I gave it a damn good shot anyhow. Rosie, if I could have done anything to keep you with me, I would have. But, like you said, you had to move on. My regret is that I never told you how much I love you when you still lived here.

If I saw you again, years from now, would you remember me? Or would I just be a face without a name, a long distant memory? I know that you wouldn’t. I’d still remember you. I’d still be in love with you. I still am, Rosie. I don’t know much, as I am often reminded, but that’s the one thing that I do know. I know it with all my heart, or what’s left of it after you broke it. In fact, I know it with my whole body, and my mind, and my soul.

I still love you, Rosie. It doesn’t matter that you’re dead.

Forever Yours,

Felix.