Dear June,

Some souls emit indescribable energy, they just instantly click. And when you get to know them, you accept them for everything they are and they do the same. Everything they do tells you a little something about them. They choose to be loud about what matters to them, explain that things would keep happening, things you were never ready for and that growth lives in the uneasiness of it all. They keep showing you the brighter side of the world no matter how pathetic you think it is out there.

Okay, I'll stop being so general now. I am talking about you, June.

Look I really do not know what exactly I want to write to you now that I managed to get a pen and paper. Its hard to describe how it feels to have an empty white paper and a black ballpoint pen in hand after 4 years of Gileadian prostitution. It feels nice, reminds me of school and work. God! Remember how much I hated waking up on Mondays and keeping a journal to keep my "life on track" as you used to say? I don't, anymore. You must be pondering how I am writing this letter. Calm that storm of questions, I am answering them all.

After I tried escaping the first time and got caught, Aunt Elizabeth beat me. With steel cables. I was scared to death. I had lost my sanity. But my fury sure outweighed the fear. Elizabeth had opened my eyes, given me a reason. I was isolated, kept in the dark, told "another offence and look what happens to your hands." I saw no point in saying a word back or I wouldn't be alive to write this letter. I knew what they might have been thinking of me. But these Gileadians barely knew themselves so it did not matter what they thought of me.

In isolation, I realized my strength. I realized my strength is not determined by the heaviness I was carrying. It struck me then. What if I lose the grip on what once was and allow myself to experience the many possibilities outside this mess. I knew I was going to take a second chance at escaping even though I knew the consequences.

Okay, whatever. You know what happened after that. I am out of that freaking Red Center now. My only regret is that I left Elizabeth alive. That stupid bitch.

Out of the Gileadian prostitution, into real prostitution. I know you don't like this. You must be hating me right now, but I had to go somewhere and do something to stay alive.

I am sorry, June.

There is something else I want to tell you. Something I never got to say before this or I was too afraid to say. The thing that is the whole idea behind writing this.

I was personally offended when you didn't take me on that fake date on Valentine's day. That was 6 years ago. You are literally a hurricane in a human form. I always loved how you won every argument we ever had, the way you asked for evidence for everything you questioned. I did not get to say goodbye or put my hands around you to show my affection or bring you lilies in the last 4 years. And I know I would never be able to make up for the lost time. It's hard for me to digest the fact that I'm sleeping with men to earn money. Binary gender norms, there you go.

I love you, June. Romantically . I have loved you all this time and honestly it was like hugging a cactus, the tighter I decided to hold on, the more it hurt. I kept pretending all this time. You see, I wanted to be your friend. But, how can you be just friends with someone when everytime you look at them and you want more than that? Don't you think I used to look in your eyes a little too long to "not have any feelings for you "? It is pathetic really, how much I hope that it is you and me in the end. It is you, it has always been you. I cannot describe it anymore. I think of you and somehow I see 40 years from now on the front porch of some old house near a beach and we are together. One thing is certain. Nothing will feel like love again after you.

And no, I do not have evidence to support that statement.

Remember when you said, " you just give off the impression that you want to kill everyone you look at." ? well, I am trying to keep up with that impression these days.

I want to know what's going in your mind when reading this. But, no. It'll get messy.

Thanks to Nick I got to write to you. He is a nice guy, and would help you if you needed someone.

June, maybe one day we will meet again and maybe that day I will explain to you. Maybe one day we'll finally understand each other. Until then, I hope you live your best life and I hope you do all the things you always said you wanted to do. I hope you find Luke and your daughter. And me.

Love,

Moira