It's been a while since I wrote to you. I know that, reading this, time doesn't pass the same way and it does for me writing it- but still too long. To be honest, I'm writing this because I've never felt farther from you than I do right now.
Life started... somewhere... and I feel like I'm kind of, sort of, an adult. I want real things now. I want to meet you, I want a family. I am acutely aware that writing this in a book brings me no where near closer to this. I don't know when you'll get here. I don't know how you'll get here.
Twenty five years of baited breath and here I stand. Waiting.
I've never liked waiting.
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