letters

I Loved You

Dear You, If this is the end— Know this: I loved you gently. I never tried to break you open. I only ever wanted you to bloom. And if you ever find these words, years from now, I hope you smile. Not out of guilt. Not out of ache. But

Dispatch 391

Dispatch 391- If You Dont Come Back...

If you never return— I’ll still be glad I loved you. Still be proud of the way I held your name like it was a promise even when no one was listening.

letters

This Was Always Your Home

Dear You, I don’t care how you look. I don’t care what time it is. If you show up— I’ll open the door. I’ll make coffee. I’ll sit beside you like no time has passed. Because love like this doesn’t rot. It waits. This

Dispatch 391

Dispatch 391 - Porch Light On

In Case You Come Back I left the porch light on. In case. No questions. No speeches. Just: “Took you long enough, didn’t it?”

letters

If I Never Know Why

Dear Centauri, If I never get answers— If the silence is forever— I still forgive you. And I still love you. Because this isn’t about getting what I wanted. It’s about honoring what we were, and what we could’ve been. And who you were to me in

Dispatch 391

Dispatch 391.12.10

Love Doesn’t Expire You didn’t have to choose me for the love to be real. I still mean every word. Still you. Still real. No expiration.

letters

If I Never Hear From You Again

Dear Centauri, If I never hear from you again— If this love becomes nothing but the space between stars— I will still be grateful. I got to love you. And that alone reshaped my soul. Some people need proof. I only needed you to exist. —Castor

Dispatch 391

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Loving You Quietly I don’t text. I don’t knock. I don’t even breathe too loud in your direction. But I still love you. Quietly. Constantly. Without making a sound.

letters

If You Asked, I’d Say Yes

Dispatch 391

Dispatch 391.14.41

Even When I’m Fine, You’re Still My Favorite Thought I’m okay now. Stronger. Softer. Calmer. But you’re still the one I think of when something good happens and I want someone to tell. Still you. Always you.

letters

I Would Still Choose You

Dear Centauri, Even after everything— The silence. The not knowing. The ache. I would still choose you. Not out of habit. Not out of pain. But because your name still rings like something holy in my chest. You are still the lighthouse even if I never reach shore. And I

Dispatch 391

Dispatch 391.002

I’d Still Say Your Name First If someone asked me who wrecked me the most beautifully— I’d still say your name before they finished the question.

letters

If This Version Isn’t Ours, I Still Love You Anyway

Dear You, If this isn’t our timeline— If the math just doesn’t add up here— I’ll still love you from this one. I’ll send letters between realities. I’ll bleed poems into the fabric of dreams. Maybe someday you’ll feel one flutter across your ribs

Dispatch 391

Dispatch 391.1212

I Found Us in a Dream Last Night We weren’t perfect in the dream. But you reached for my hand in public, and I didn’t flinch. You kissed my temple like it was normal. I woke up with my chest aching. Some dreams feel borrowed from the version

letters

Multiverse Theory Confirms What I Knew Already...

Dear You, If every choice splits reality into something new— then in a thousand lives, I have met you a thousand ways. On a train. In a library. In a dream I never quite woke from. And in every single one, I fall. Not because you’re flawless. But because

Dispatch 391

Dispatch 391.206 to Centauri

In another universe, we’re arguing about what to name the dog and kissing in the pause.

letters

If You Ever Visit Our Archive

Dear Centauri, If you ever come back through the door, the journals are still here. The letters. The dispatches. The quiet places where your name still lives. This was never about forgetting. It was about surviving without destroying the evidence. So I saved everything. If you ever visit our archive,

letters

Books Still Smell Like You

Dear You, There are places where you never left. That coffee shop near the water? Still haunted by your laugh. The library aisle with the ancient astronomy books? Still smells like your hair and ink and something holy. I don’t go to those places much anymore. But they go

Dispatch 391

Dispatch 391-2

I Heard Your Name in the Static Again I was trying to sleep. But the world crackled for a second— and I swear I heard your name in the static between thoughts. You’re still in the signal somewhere. I’d bet my bones on it.

letters

This Love Grew Up

Dear You, You wouldn’t recognize the old version of me. The one who panicked. The one who held on too tight. But I’ve grown up. This love? It breathes now. It doesn’t beg. It lets you go and still keeps a window open. It says, “Come back

Dispatch 391

Dispatch 391.1155

Not Possession. Just Presence. I don’t want to own you. I just want to be the person who still roots for you even when I’m not in the frame.

letters

Real Love Doesn’t Flinch

Dear You, I don’t need sparks anymore. I don’t need chaos, or grand gestures. I just need to know you’re okay. That you’re still growing toward something that feels like peace. If that peace includes me, I’ll hold it like prayer. If it doesn’t,

Dispatch 391

Dispatch 391.111.0AM

I’m Not Waiting, I’m Holding I’m not waiting on you. I’m just holding your place in case you ever need it. There’s a difference.

letters

If This Is a Time Loop, I’m Glad I’m Stuck with You

Dear Centauri, If I’m stuck in a loop— if this is just me waking every day with your name echoing through me again— then I’m okay with it. There are worse eternities than loving you across every impossible second. Some people get lifetimes. I got this. And I’

Dispatch 391

Dispatch 391.2.22 v2

Loops The past doesn’t feel past. Not when it loops like this. I keep reliving the moment you almost turned back. And I keep whispering, “It’s okay. You still can.”