Dear Panther,
Not a day goes by where I don't think of you. You pop up in my head on the most random of occasions. I was guzzling salted peanuts the other day thinking of how much you like them. It took a lot of control for me to not send you a photo of the peanuts packet.
I miss how my brain used to shift to airplane mode whenever I was with you. I wonder if you think of me too, but I won't blame you if you don't. I know how much you have going with you right now, and it kills me to think I can't be there for you in any way possible. I've said this a number of times before but I'll say it again: Know that I'm here. Know that I'll understand. Know that I'll listen.
This is probably the last time I'll be reaching out to you, Panther. After this, I may finally close your book and put it on the shelf with my other books and chapters. I hate to think of how thin it is. I wish we had just a few more chapters, you know, I really do. I know for a fact that if I don't put you on the shelf for good soon, I may never read anything ever again. I know for a fact that your thought will always be sitting apprehensively next to whatever I'm doing or thinking. I can't afford that.
I'll be lying if I say that I don't pray that our paths cross or one of us finds the other somewhere in future, near or far. I can't not say that prayer, even if I try.
With one last ray of hope in my heart,
Yours,