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"Some people come into our lives and quickly go. Some stay for awhile and leave footprints on our hearts. And we are never, ever the same." --Anonymous

Earlier today, I was looking through my box of every single letter anyone has ever sent me, and every single letter that I've meant to send, but never got the chance-- I found an old love letter to my boyfriend of a year and a half. Although we're not together anymore, I like the way I wrote it, and just thought I would share.

Dear ______,

I love you, plain and simple. As the universe spirals slowly into oblivion, I love you. When your illusions become disillusioning, and the stars fail to shine, I love you.

You are my sun that rises and my moon that sets. You are "the highway and the peregrine and all the sails ever to go out to sea." You are the light in my eyes and the smile in my soul. But most of all, you are the embodiment of my heart, and I cherish that. Love, Tiffany

Old love letters from primary school emerge from the dusty box which has lived happily under the bed for the last 12 years. The letters, like the box, are dusty and have faded as the texta drawings and pencil lines blur together.

I was loved once, too
(Exhibit A)

Here is a small (5cm x 5cm) book, held together with a single staple. Its inscription (To Melanie, love Steven), takes up the first two pages.

The pictures are childish, 2 dimensional, the text large and barely decipherable. For some strange reason the text and pictures all pertain to the pyramids of Egypt. Yellow triangles and the word 'egipt' dot across the tiny pages.

I am ashamed to say that when handed this treasure, I threw it to the ground and stomped on it (if I remember correctly, Steven was known as the stupid smelly kid. I was embarrassed to be loved by such a boy).

Exhibit B

A short note, with red writing. Given to me on the afternoon school bus by a younger boy (I was only ten at the time, so he must have been all of at least seven or eight).

"Roses are red,
violets are blue.
God is a sweatie
and so are you.

Well, god is a sweatie indeed. And so, apparently, was I. An early indication of the dangers of deodorant ignorance? Tell-tale dark semi-circles on my shirts under the armpits?

It's best not to think about old love letters. They'll trip you up when you're not really thinking about anything, make you feel bad about what you should have said, done or written back, instead of laughing uproariously and pointing out which boy was in love with you.

But I guess that's all part of the fun of growing up.

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