Dear Mouse.

I can't find the words to tell you how I feel. There is no hope for me on the scrunched balls of paper lying in my waste bin. Embarrassment is too hard to deal with for I don't know what to say, I may stutter and be incomprehensible. I cannont tell you up straight, because shyness engorphes me. My heart is burning, waiting to knock on the door that separates me from all humanity. I crumple to the ground in agony because of the embers burning my personality. People tell me to get a life and not laze about waiting... with no results. They say my skin is growing pale from lack of sun in this dark cell though rays shine bright through the half opened curtain. With one look I can break a heart; but I hope this letter I write will not do the same to yours. My neck is aching, hanging down over this piece of paper. It has been ages. I have almost forgotten the sound of trees in the wind, the warmth of the sun, and the joy of living life. I have never been good at spillin my heart out on paper. The only words that come to mind are simple and straight forward.
"Dear Mouse. I love you."

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