My Dearest J,

18 November

J,

I wish I could get you out of my head. It's been well over a year now and every day I see you. There is always something that reminds me of you, even if it is pure silence. You come waltzing into my head unannounced as if you live there, and still I cannot help but smile. 
I'm sorry I hurt you. It will be the biggest regret of my life not meeting you in New Orleans. The truth is I was all set to go. I had my bags packed, ticket in hand but I started thinking and then fear set in. The fear of finally seeing you and having everything we have ever talked about come true and falling so hopelessly in love with you that I would never want to return. I was afraid I wouldn't be able to let you go, for after meeting you I wouldn't have been strong enough to leave you. This silent torture I have been living with since the moment I met you is nothing compared to that regret and for that I am truly sorry. It is still terribly romantic to me, and even though I live every day knowing of the possibility that you have moved on I still can't help but be stuck in those mid July conversations.

I will admit I have been through every emotion when I think of you. Anger, sadness, happiness, hope, fear. At one point I had convinced myself to hate you, or at least tell myself you were not who I know you to be. I had convinced myself that you had only used me during your deployment as something to fill up and pass the time. But then I remembered who you are and knew that ridiculous thought wasn't true. 

I do know the consequences of our time together and understand that we can never be. We have chosen to be apart of the greatest love story of the century and slowly, each day, it has chipped away at us, breaking us down until we move about mechanically, yet still holding onto that last ray of hope that one day, even if by a chance meeting we will lock eyes and become rejuvenated once again. 

I apologize if I am being too forward, for even though I still know you, I do understand that after all this time has passed I must be a stranger to you now. Unfortunately I fear I have possessed the last remaining hopeless romantic heart and you have been burdened with the role as my muse, a muse whom I have had the greatest privilege of knowing. One who was, from my point of view, never able to truly speak with his heart. This torture, this mystery, keeps my fantasies going and I need that to survive this dreary world.  Even if you have moved on, please I beg of you, do not tell me, don't even respond. Let me keep the memory of us alive and well.

If you do still think of me, as I you, then I might propose the exhilarating yet dangerous notion of conversing again. If not, know that I, as I always have, will understand.
If that be the case then maybe we'll meet under better circumstances in the next life.

With all my heart,

Hopeless