Hey, it's Oscar.
I just got your letter.
I wasn't expecting it.
It's made me really happy.
It's so strange.
I still haven't come back, but I feel closer to you.
It's funny how strangers can become lovers in just a week or two.
Summer's here now in Paris, and I guess it's almost impossible to breathe in this little
apartment, the kind you can afford when you're a student.
Summer's here, and I'm not, but at least you got a new keychain hanging on your wall.
You want to know how I feel, and I'll be honest with you, because I've always been.
Well, it sometimes feels like I'm drowning in a pool I drew for myself.
I'm swimming in circles, but there's no way to escape.
There's people around me here, but no one really seems to care.
It's not like they could have helped anyway.
I always loved being alone, but home always felt close.
Friends, family, you.
It's not about the place.
It's about who.
I could have told you about L.A., palm trees, and sunny days.
But I know it's not what you meant.
When you wrote me, is everything okay?
I miss you, and now that I'm writing this, even tomorrow feels too far away.
But guess what?
Well, I might just be back for your birthday.
Take care.
Oscar.
Bye.