I wrote him a letter a few weeks back. I asked him questions but tried not to be nosy, I told him a little about my life but tried not to seem clingy. I waited for a few weeks and I had given up hope until I checked my mailbox today and there it sat. I have not received a letter since God knows when being that my typical means of communication consists of emails and Myspace messages. It really felt good to see my name and address scrawled on that envelope, the ink slightly smudged, knowing he had taken a moment out of his day to write me a letter, just like they used to do when we were fighting other wars.

He hates basic training but I have a feeling he will grow a passion for it. Not everyone has what it takes to do what he is doing. I certainly don't. I miss him more than I am willing to admit and I hope he at least thinks of me from time to time. His letter was short but he said he would "write me a better letter soon." Being the analytical fiend that I am, I wonder if he will hold true to his word or simply forget about his promise of sorts. I really wish I didn't care so much. I've spent a lot of time not caring about people and now I cannot say the same. Our letter correspondence has a nostalgic and simple romance to it which I adore. No icons, no smiley faces, no curly fonts in front of cornea-debilitating backgrounds. Just good old fashioned words.