I don’t think I’ve ever been in so much pain. I want to be there when you leave, to say goodbye and tell you I’m sorry and beg you to stay. But I’m weak, so instead, I’m writing this letter and committing your sleeping face to memory. I couldn’t bear it if the last memory I had of you was the way you look at me now, after discovering the kind of monster I am. You look disappointed. Scared. Angry. But you’re angelic when you sleep. The perfect embodiment of the endearing nickname I’ve given you. I wish I wasn’t the root cause of the burdens you bear.
