Dearest,

Right now I know it hurts, and it feels endless. Endure. It truly is endless — the pain shall never cease; one shall be followed by another, would not care for the weight you carry, would not stop even as you fall and gasp for breath. Endure, love, for you shall have no recompense save for the small comfort of moving forward. It will be slow, and long, and the road will be unforgiving, but your heart will race and your feet will put one in front of the other; you will try and fail countless times. They will talk, and their wisdom will find its way out of the century where it was meant to be buried. You must not listen. You must only pay attention to the drum beat in your chest and the wailing winds in your ear.

It will not be easy, but endure anyway, because the regret will never be lighter than the sum of all that you have and have not borne. The regret will kill you as certainly as time will. So endure, and endure as best you can.

Yours, etc.

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