Dear Billy,
You will never read this letter. You will never know the truth. You might be able to guess, but you won't ever truly know. You won't ever truly know the pain I feel every second I am reminded of you.
Remember coming to my house and I was wearing my sister's clothes? You told me about the ballet school. I said you shouldn't go. I said you shouldn't go because I'd miss you. I think about this afternoon every day of my life. Please don't go, Billy, I pleaded, because I'd miss you. I should have said because I love you.
Remember last Christmas? I kissed your cheek and warmed your hands in my coat. I quite liked it. You found out I was a poof. You must have known that I wasn't just a poof, but I was in love with you too. Maybe you think that I've gotten over it. But I haven't, Billy. I know I haven't because every morning I wake up and my heart is so heavy I feel as if I will fall through the floor and every night I cry myself to sleep wishing you loved me too.
You did leave, Billy. You left Everington. You left me. And before you left… you kissed me. I loved it. And I fucking hated it. You left me wanting more and knowing that I'd never get it. Maybe you shouldn't have kissed me. But I wouldn't have been able to live if you hadn't. But I don't know how well I'm living now because you did.
I watched you run away from me. You couldn't see but you left me with a hole in my chest, a flame on my cheek, and tears falling from my eyes.
Sometimes I can tolerate the pain. And sometimes the pain is so strong I crumble under the ferocity of it. I turn into nothing, Billy. I am nothing...nothing without you.
To me, you are my life. To you…I am just your friend. And I know that is never going to change.
Love, Michael