Do you have any idea how many letters I have written you? Honestly, it could as easily be dozens as it could be hundreds. However, the thing is that I am always writing you another letter. Every single time, I tell myself that this will be the letter you read. This time, I’ll send it to you. You’ll never read them, you know. To allow myself to continue believing in my own goodness, I have convinced myself that I am keeping them to myself for your sake alone. However, I know I am remaining silent as ever as much for my own sake as yours. I don’t want to think about the fact that I am not a good person and I certainly don’t want to remember that you aren’t one either. I can’t bare my heart to you, Chica. One way or another, you’d break it. Don’t worry, love. Honestly, I won’t be sending you this letter, either. But there are some things I want to tell you…

The first time I saw you, you had a shy smile on your lips and a chip on your shoulder. To this day, I have never met anyone else who could look both so proud and so afraid at the same time. You always walk with your head held high and never back down. When you don’t think anyone is looking, though, your blue eyes soften. They observe even the most mundane aspects of the world around them with the awe of one witnessing a miracle.

Though I certainly didn’t realize it the time, you were the miracle in my mundane little world.

Mundane is a good word for that day. I woke up, shivering and dreading the day ahead, as with every other day. After my screeching alarm clock tore me from my strange but peaceful dreams, I wrapped myself in a pink and floral covers-burrito in an attempt to escape the cold and hide from the inevitability of the school day ahead of me.