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Chapter Three; Unsent Letters And Hidden Pieces
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We may share similarities, but we also have our own differences—and I’ve always loved that about us. I love how we’re both passionate about art, how it connects us in a quiet, meaningful way. Yet, the way we express it is so uniquely our own. 54Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFzdKobN2DA
Your hand moves as if it has a life of its own whenever you draw or paint—so fluid, so natural, like the art is already alive inside you and your hand is simply letting it out. There’s something mesmerizing about the way you create, like you're not just making something beautiful, but you're telling a story only you can tell.
I may not have seen you work in person, but I can already imagine how captivating you must look when you’re fully immersed in it. There’s something effortlessly beautiful about someone completely lost in their passion—focused, alive, and glowing with purpose. And knowing you, I’m sure it’s a sight worth remembering, even if I’ve only pictured it in my mind. And every time I picture you in my mind, I always see someone who’s happy, calm, content—yet with a quiet seriousness in their eyes. Someone grounded, thoughtful, and deeply present. It’s a version of you that feels so real, so familiar. Very much like who you truly are… or at least, who you were to me. 54Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡSpbEJ9hdWo
You tell your stories through visuals—through colors, lines, and images that speak louder than words ever could. And I tell mine through sentences, through carefully chosen words woven together with emotion. We both create from the heart, just in different forms. Your art paints what can’t be said, while mine writes what can’t be seen.54Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡod1tlXtrDV
I write words that fill up the emptiness of a blank page—letters meant for you, each one sealed with care and addressed in your name. But instead of reaching you, they remain tucked away, hidden inside a box no one sees. A quiet collection of thoughts, confessions, and stories I was too afraid to send. Words meant for you, yet destined to stay unread. Writings that are all about you—every line, every thought, every unspoken feeling—but ones you were never meant to see. They were written in silence, with you in every word, yet always meant to stay hidden. Not because you don’t deserve to know, but because I never knew how to show you just how much you meant to me.
While you create sketches—pieces of your soul delicately drawn on paper—each one gently protected, kept safe, and hidden away from the world. They’re like quiet secrets you only let a few people see, if any at all. Just like my letters, your art holds the emotions you don’t always say out loud. We both create in silence, in our own ways, keeping parts of ourselves tucked away—perhaps out of fear, or maybe just to preserve the honesty within them. 54Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ0FYrdMsBnf
The bittersweet love we both feel—so present, yet too fragile to name—has made us turn to the things we create. Too scared to say it out loud, we let our art speak in our place. You with your sketches, me with my words—both of us pouring emotions into pieces that quietly hold everything we’re afraid to admit. And maybe that’s how we’ve been loving all this time… silently, through the things we make, hoping the other might somehow understand. 54Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡOh6N4AUjln
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