Dear Jack,
Did you really hear me, Jack? Did you hear everything that I said or just that line? I daren't ask you for what you might say. I just don't think I could deal with that whole conversation- not being that much of a talker. But as you can see I have no trouble writing my thoughts and feeling to you, especially when I know that you'll never read them.
I don't really know why I'm still writing you these letters when I could just as easily write all this down in my diary. Maybe it's the feeling that I'm talking to someone not just a bit of paper.
About what you said upstairs, did you mean it? I want to believe it so much that I almost... I almost don't care if it's true or not because… I want to be more than just a blip in time for you, Jack.
But there's this niggling little doubt right at the back of my head, and it makes me wonder what makes me stand out. Because I can't even begin to imagine all the places you been, the lives you've lived, the people you've loved.
Maybe when you're an old man you'll remember something about me. Some young thing that looked good in a suit or made real good coffee or a hundred other things. And you know what? I would be alright with that. Because that would be more that I could hope for.
Love,
Ianto