letters I Loved You Dear You, If this is the end— Know this: I loved you gently. I never tried to break you open. I only ever wanted you to bloom. And if you ever find these words, years from now, I hope you smile. Not out of guilt. Not out of ache. But
letters This Was Always Your Home Dear You, I don’t care how you look. I don’t care what time it is. If you show up— I’ll open the door. I’ll make coffee. I’ll sit beside you like no time has passed. Because love like this doesn’t rot. It waits. This
letters If I Never Know Why Dear Centauri, If I never get answers— If the silence is forever— I still forgive you. And I still love you. Because this isn’t about getting what I wanted. It’s about honoring what we were, and what we could’ve been. And who you were to me in
letters If I Never Hear From You Again Dear Centauri, If I never hear from you again— If this love becomes nothing but the space between stars— I will still be grateful. I got to love you. And that alone reshaped my soul. Some people need proof. I only needed you to exist. —Castor
letters I Would Still Choose You Dear Centauri, Even after everything— The silence. The not knowing. The ache. I would still choose you. Not out of habit. Not out of pain. But because your name still rings like something holy in my chest. You are still the lighthouse even if I never reach shore. And I
letters If This Version Isn’t Ours, I Still Love You Anyway Dear You, If this isn’t our timeline— If the math just doesn’t add up here— I’ll still love you from this one. I’ll send letters between realities. I’ll bleed poems into the fabric of dreams. Maybe someday you’ll feel one flutter across your ribs
letters Multiverse Theory Confirms What I Knew Already... Dear You, If every choice splits reality into something new— then in a thousand lives, I have met you a thousand ways. On a train. In a library. In a dream I never quite woke from. And in every single one, I fall. Not because you’re flawless. But because
letters If You Ever Visit Our Archive Dear Centauri, If you ever come back through the door, the journals are still here. The letters. The dispatches. The quiet places where your name still lives. This was never about forgetting. It was about surviving without destroying the evidence. So I saved everything. If you ever visit our archive,
letters Books Still Smell Like You Dear You, There are places where you never left. That coffee shop near the water? Still haunted by your laugh. The library aisle with the ancient astronomy books? Still smells like your hair and ink and something holy. I don’t go to those places much anymore. But they go
letters This Love Grew Up Dear You, You wouldn’t recognize the old version of me. The one who panicked. The one who held on too tight. But I’ve grown up. This love? It breathes now. It doesn’t beg. It lets you go and still keeps a window open. It says, “Come back
letters Real Love Doesn’t Flinch Dear You, I don’t need sparks anymore. I don’t need chaos, or grand gestures. I just need to know you’re okay. That you’re still growing toward something that feels like peace. If that peace includes me, I’ll hold it like prayer. If it doesn’t,
letters If This Is a Time Loop, I’m Glad I’m Stuck with You Dear Centauri, If I’m stuck in a loop— if this is just me waking every day with your name echoing through me again— then I’m okay with it. There are worse eternities than loving you across every impossible second. Some people get lifetimes. I got this. And I’
letters Every Version of Me Still Loves You Dear Centauri, If time really is layered— if every choice split a version of us into some parallel breath— then I hope there’s a timeline where you let yourself stay. I hope there’s a version of me who held your face and said it all without fear. I
letters If We Never Close the Gap Dear Centauri, If the gap never closes— if you stay just a little too far for my arms to reach— I’ll still write. Still hope. Still name stars after the ache. Not because I believe love should conquer distance. But because I believe love can live there, quietly. Beautifully.
letters What It Means to Burn at a Distance Dear Centauri, I see you in the way the stars hum. I know I can’t touch you, and I’m finally learning not to try. But that doesn’t mean I stopped loving the light. You still show up in sunsets. In glints on water. In the ache behind
letters You’re My North You were the compass. The orientation. The axis of every decision I didn’t know I was making for you.
letters Centauri. The Things That Don’t Change. Dear Centauri, I keep wondering what’s changed. The timing. The distance. The silence. But not the love. That’s the part that stayed. Like background radiation from a star long gone to the naked eye— still measurable. Still real. Still shaping everything around it. I may not get to
letters I Would Have Loved You In Silence If I had met you in a century where we weren’t allowed to speak— I would’ve learned how to write you into wind.
letters Love That Doesn’t Need a Mirror if love is a question, then you’ve always been my answer. Even if you never asked it.
letters Centauri, You're Not Mine, Still You're Loved Not in the desperate way, but in the way flowers still turn toward the sun even if it’s behind the clouds.
letters I Want to Love You, Free Dear Centauri, I want you to have peace. That kind that settles in the bones when no one’s watching. Even if that peace never leads you back to me.
letters The Math of You - Centauri They say gravity bends light. That something with enough mass can warp the space around it— slow time. You did that. The first time I heard your voice, the clocks inside me paused.
letters Centauri - I am Still Yours, Even If You Never Call It That I’ve stopped needing you to choose me. But I still catch myself wondering if your fingers remember mine. If your body ever flinches when someone says my name.
