Dear Armand,
We have always been haunted by this notion: that what we have is ephemeral and we both think that we imagined each other. We would stash it away to the back of our minds or pretend that everything would work out because I love you too much to lose you to dust and you're too afraid of the truth. You will never accept the idea that you're a phantom because what then, if I un-imagined you; and I shudder under the possibility of completely obliterating an individual from the face of this world. We can never be entirely sure who and what is real. And so, we are trapped in stasis, forever dreading the time when one of us fades away.
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