It makes me feel connected to you. Because I know, with one hundred percent certainty, that during your lifetime, you’ve looked at that same moon. It’s all I’ve got right now, G. The moon, the stars, and the sun. Even the air that I breathe, I take in great gulps and wonder if there’s even a remote chance that it’s maybe air, that at some stage, you’ve breathed. Is that even scientifically possible I wonder? I know I don’t bother to post these letters to you anymore, but still, I continue to write them. They help me sort shit out in my head. You could always help me sort shit out, you always gave me a different perspective, a different way of looking at things. I’m an over thinker, and I analyse everything. But you, G, just go with your gut. You react on your first instinct, all guns blazing. I hope that hasn’t changed. I hope you’re still the Gia that loved me so passionately. Is it loved or love? Do you think of me at all? I could ask your brothers and Jimmie but it still hurts so much G.
