Dear Fictional Character whose name I won't mention but never forget, Your eyes are cold. Solemn. Subtle. Cold, blue, rejecting any trace of hope. I don't hope. Because I let go. I don't know what I saw in you. Can anyone trap me when I feel so free? I let go. I'm happy this way. I told her. I didn't keep it to myself. I didn't hide it. Unlike I always do.
