A cold letter

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Put your hand on her chest, can you hear that sound? It’s broken!  She is my best friend.

I never felt alone by your side, just my pillow and I know about this. You were always the friend who made my teenage dreams true. I never dared to talk about this because I found out this when I was away.

Sometimes I hear “I was lucky to marry my best friend,” that draws a mischievous smile on my face and automatically, I think of you … but at the same time, I think on: Do I want him to kiss me? How does it feel to be protected by him?

I don’t know if this is because I’m in my 30th, but I will confess: I would like to see if it feels right. I am the one that falls in love when it feels correct, not when I feel alone. For my cold days, I just have to choose.

I like when we are never agree and then you do it just to please me, I like how you make a point with my love life (especially my kind of addiction with Arabs), with some of my music (yes, I like Justin Bieber), and I like how you make fun of my curly hair.

You said I’m not the same, but I am, we are just in different paths right now. It took me a while to find out my way and discover who I am. The ink on my skin tells the story that made me the woman I am today… and you know to who I own who I am.

I was a coward for not telling you when you hugged me before I left.

Maybe I left to be found?

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