I write this to you as a warning from myself from the past, before our encounter. Unlike that of others, I do not have the privilege of having that person who would write about me, who would leave a note for the next love before they go.

I do not have that privilege for when I love and I find myself unable to stay, one way or another it burns. Everything I love, I end up destroying.

I have yet to find the great forest that of which would withstand the floods and disastrous fires; the great forest I will find myself lost in and unable to escape.

This forest is you. You would not be reading this unless it is you.
You are the great love. Not my first, but certainly my last.

All the loves in this world are of course never the same. There is the
first, the almost, and even that one that got away.

No matter how romantic may sound; however, you still by far are the greatest. For the thing they all have in common is something that you lack: regret. Of all loves, you are devoid of regret. And never will you be tarnished with that.

The troubling times we shall battle side  by side, but never shall we perish.

I waited for you for the longest time.
Bless every single second. They were worth the wait.