Loving someone without them knowing is like slowly dying every day, living with the knowledge that you love them and would do anything to make them happy and safe, do anything to protect them.
It hurts more and more every day. Glancing over at them with the knowledge that what you feel will never be returned it's the worst feeling imaginable. Sitting in a hospital bed and waiting to succumb to death is like seeing everything in your life flash before your eyes in slow motion. The clear crisp pictures of all the moments you loved. Of course, it wasn't a surprise that all the things I saw were of John.
Of ll the things that made me love him, how he was so loyal and caring, even surprisingly calm despite all the things we had gone through in the past, all those traits were only a couple reasons I loved him. He would never know though. At least, not until he read the letter, it would explain everything. How I was sorry so, so sorry that I had to leave him, how I never told him, how I even ended up in this godforsaken place. I knew that once John read it he would know. He would feel every emotion that ever crossed my mind.
My breathing becoming shallow, heart rate dropping, I closed my eyes. I was at peace with this, I always had been, but now I really couldn't say. A part of me just wanted to hold onto that sliver of life I had left, just hoping that john would burst through the doors and say he had read the letter and felt the same. Felt the same as I did, and whisper those three words that I never had the courage to say. I love you. My senses were failing and I could barely hear the nurses as they scurried about. I was past the point of no return, and as I took my last breath, my thoughts lingered on one thing.
John Watson, and that lone was enough to set my mind at ease.