a final letter to the world.

To whoever finds this,

or maybe to no one at all,

It's late and I'm supposed to be asleep, but the moon is slanting through my curtain and the quiet feels like it's listening. The silence is deafening. So I thought I'd write to someone, anyone. Maybe even to you.

Sometimes, I feel like I'm on the edge of something; like if I reached out far enough, I could touch the shimmer of a life I haven't lived yet. Isn't that silly? Maybe it's just the way the night makes everything sound soft and possible. Maybe I just want to believe in more.

I wanted to walk somewhere foreign and beautiful, and wear clothes that smelt of summer perfume and hope. I wanted to paint thing that make people feel safe and haunted all at once. I wanted to love like music does - irreversibly. 

And I wanted to know people. Really know them. Not just the polished parts, but the mess and the fear and the little girl dreams they never say aloud.

If you're reading this and your heart feels tired, please know mine does too. But I think that means we're still alive. That we still care.

Maybe we'll meet one day. Or maybe you'll forget this letter and me altogether. But just in case you don't - I hope you carry something soft and glowing from this. Even if it's just a reminder that somewhere, someone is dreaming too.

With love from a window cracked open to the stars,

Evie Rose x