Loose wrote:For *privacy (you spelled privacy wrong^^) reasons, I have taken the name out, but this is a love letter I just wrote to someone I really care about. The reason it's posted here? I swear to you it's the most disgusting thing I have ever written! I really think it needs a ton of work, so please point out where I can fix it before I send it them! Please and thank you!
Dear (Insert name here),
I am lying here now on my bed in my father’s house, my cheek pressed comfortably against the plush purple blanket. My nose is pressed to the sheets and I can smell the faint trace of my father’s deoderant which suggests he has recently made my bed.
In the distance, I can hear the phone ring, then a melody of voices as the phone is answered and a conversation erupts. <----<< I like how you use "erupts" , it's an imagery word.
My wrist cramps slightly under the weight of the pencil I use to write this, made heavy by the ugly blue eraser sitting on the pencil’s tip. Yet I refuse to take the eraser off should I make an error in this spontaneous literary escapade of which I write to you. (I like the word escapade here, it fits.)
My eyes barely focus on the words I scrawl, only assuming I’m not making an utter mess of the page. They’re too busy studying the view outside my window. Not a particularly special view; the side of the neighbour’s house, a galvanised steel fence, a navy blue four wheel drive, all laid out on top of a carpet of brick pavement.
I lay here, my senses underwhelmed with the bland monotony of nothingness. Yet there is something remarkably spectacular about every little detail. I view the blue car and the steel fence, I smell the deoderant, I hear the conversations and I feel the cramps, all in a different way. Now, there is love in my heart and happiness in my soul. Each moment in my life has become special and magnificant ever since you came into my life.
(Insert Name here), I love you.
My nose is pressed to the sheets and I can smell the faint trace of my father’s deodorant which suggests he has recently made my bed.
In the distance, I can hear the phone ring, then a melody of voices as the phone is answered and a conversation erupts.
I view the blue car and the steel fence, I smell the deodorant, I hear the conversations and I feel the cramps, all in a different way.
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