Dear Letter,

You sat in my desk for so long, it almost feels empty now that you're not in the drawer. I was so used to opening it up and seeing you sitting there on top. You were always on the top of the pile, the top of my list, the top of everything. I imagined the words enfolded in your envelope were everything I would ever need to hear. I really thought that you were perfext. No mistakes, no blemishes, no scribbles. You were almost too perfect. But one day I left. I left the drawer. I'd tried doing it before...so many times. But this time it worked. I left, and when I came back the letter was gone. I was so afraid I'd miss it once I got back. That I'd want to cry everytime I opened the drawer and feel the loss of the perfect letter. But I never did. I made new letters instead. Maybe even better letters, because they weren't so perfect. I knew the handwriting better, recognized the familiar scrawl, and felt the reality of the words. So, even though I'm better off now, I still remember that perfect letter. It's not as tragic as I always thought it would be, because it was never real to begin with. I can look back and be grateful for what it taught me. I am stronger...but still not perfect. Luckily, now I don't have to be.