Author's Note: I don't know why I wrote this, but I did. It kinda sucks in my eyes but whatever. It seems really jumpy. Everything up to 3x22 in the show is canon except Rebekah didn't make Matt and Elena go over Wickery Bridge. So she's also still human. I don't own TVD. If you like it, please consider reviewing.


Damon,

I don't know why I'm writing this. If you wanted to hear from me, you would come back to Mystical Falls, or call me, or... something. I don't even know where you are right now, Damon. I haven't heard from you in two years. I haven't heard a single word from you in two years now. I don't even remember the sound of your voice anymore now.

I'm starting to forget your face, as well. It used to be clear as day. Your beautiful blue eyes, the way you would smile at me when you were happy with me, everything. It's fading now, though. I remember what should be there, but I can't see it anymore.

I miss you, Damon. I miss you and your beautiful face and the way you always cared for me. It still hurts being away from. I love you. I never said it to your face but, Damon, I really and truly love you. Honestly, I think I did just the opposite. You must have felt like I hated you, like you would never amount to anything compared to Stefan. I took advantage of you being there simply because I knew you would, because you promised you wouldn't leave me again.

I don't blame you for leaving, though I wish you had at least said goodbye before you did.

I wonder how you're doing some times. Where you are, what you've seen, who you've met, who you've loved. Sometimes I consider asking Stefan where you are, sending you a real letter, trying to get in actual contact with you... Then I realize just how bad an idea that really is. I mean, he won, right? You had to leave, didn't you? That was your deal...

I wish that didn't have to happen, though. I wish you could have stayed and been with us, with me, a little longer. You know, I never was able to love Stefan like I did before. He was never... himself. He was distant and uncaring at times and I didn't feel like he tried for us any. Why would he have to? I mean, his only threat left, right?

I hope you're doing all right, Damon. I hope you're enjoying yourself and being you. I love you. I hope that maybe, just maybe, you'll come back some time.

Love,

Elena

Her pencil shook in her hand as her eyes scanned through the words, her fingers gripping it tightly. Tears welled in the corner of her eyes, threatening to break free. Elena had to look away from it.

Carefully and precisely, she folded the paper in to thirds and leaned over her bed, awkwardly scrambing to pull a mahogany wood box out from the confines of beneath her bed. She placed it atop her sheets.

A good five minutes passed before she reached over the box and removed its lid, revealing the mass of folded paper strewn about in what appeared to be a disorderly chaos. They were all folded in to thirds, all matching the paper she had just finished, and they all were in perfect condition.

Elena wouldn't let any harm come to her box of memories.

She placed the new letter on top, careful not to bend or crinkle the pages, and then gently realigned them to be perpendicular with the left side. She placed the pencil in her right hand beside them, and then put the lid back on to the box.

She was returning the box to its home beneath her bed when Stefan arrived.

"What are you doing, Elena?" He asked, confusion evident in his tone.

Her eyes went wide as she carefully shoved her precious box away from her. Frantic, Elena grabbed a sweater from her floor and clambered back up to her bed.

"Dropped this," she lied, holding up the sweater.

Stefan could never know what she was actually doing.