Dear Angela, I know in the past I’ve caused you pain, and I’m sorry. And I’ll always be sorry ‘till the day I die. And I hate this pen I’m holding because I should be holding you. I hate this paper under my hand because it isn’t you. I even hate this letter because it’s not the whole truth. Because the whole truth is so much more than a letter can even say. If you want to hate me, go ahead. If you want to burn this letter, do it. You could burn the whole world down; you could tell me to go to hell. I’d go, if you wanted me to. And I’d send you letter from there.