Dear Ciel,
I know you claim your feelings have been lost long ago with your parents' death, but forgive me for saying, I do not believe so. Perhaps you only disregard them for your own sake, for the business that you have inherited, for your servants, for the correspondents. You place a hard look on your face, a warning to all that your heart is colder than ice and your emotions are bitter like ampayala.
They say the eyes are a window to the soul, and I've done a good amount of watching your cerulean eyes. I can see the pain you hide, the hatred for the world around you. You loathe each person that can laugh and smile freely; They have not forgotten how, like you. Each scowl that I've received has deeper meaning that just a strict look, for you envy my own happiness and obliviousness that I have toward the world. If only you can remember how much you are loved, Ciel. Even though you're alone in the world, you act as if it doesn't matter to you; But it does.
I want you to be happy. I want you to be able to grow up with memories that can make you smile and laugh as you tell your children. I try so hard, Ciel, to help you forget the bitter world of reality, but you resist my efforts. I can't go on like this. You've fallen too much and too hard in your own self-pity and anger for me to be able to pull you out again. It seems like you try to pull people into the abyss of your solace, and perhaps you've gained a grip on me. I don't want that for myself as much as I don't want that for you.
When you love someone, you let them go. You let them live their life without obligations, you let them be free to go where the wind takes them. Even though it hurts, maybe it wasn't meant to be. Tears are meant to spill, for it takes away the pain that your significant other has built inside from the goodbye.
I'm sorry, Ciel. I'm very, very sorry.
-Lady Elizabeth Ethel Cordelia Midford
