Shepard.

There was a meteor shower tonight. The perseids. It was the first time in so long that the sky was clear. The Milky Way was a rare, bright streak across the sky, and I couldn't stop thinking about all those long talks you and I had on the observation deck. It's strange to remember us being up there. We kissed among those stars. We held each other. Made love. I feel like if I stare up at the sky long enough, I can feel you being that close to me again. You'd think that after everything we've been through up in space - after all the time we spent out there - that a sky like this from Earth would seem unextraordinary. But that isn't the case. Somehow it's even more magnificent. More humbling. Especially now, knowing that I may never go back.

I'm glad you'll never have to know how much it hurts to lay here on Earth without you. What I wouldn't give, just to know what it's like to hold you on solid ground. I didn't get to have you here, and I'm angry about it. I hate that each day without you just feels like something brand new the Reapers have taken from me. I hate that watching this meteor shower tonight is the closest I've felt to you since you left. It's this quiet, heavy sort of anger that just sits on my chest with a weight that makes it hard to breathe, and there is nothing here for me to take it out on. I try to believe that the simple act of living should be enough of a "fuck you" to the Reapers for me to find comfort in, but it's not. We're missing out on so much, Shepard, and it isn't fair.

I hope and pray that wherever you are, you're more at peace than I am.

Love,

-Kaidan