The Purple Letters I Never Sent You

I remember the first time you fell in love. You were sixteen, and she was everything you weren’t — fearless, unapologetic, and already kissed by the world. You wrote songs about her, scribbled her name on the margins of your notebooks, and imagined her dancing in the background of your dreams. But you never told her. Not really. You hid behind your guitar, behind your lyrics, behind the idea of her. And when she left, you told yourself you were better off alone. I know you, little one. I know how you guard your heart like it’s a vault of secrets no one’s ready to hear.

The Girl You Wrote Into a Song

There was another one, later. You remember her — the one who made you feel like you were walking on a tightrope strung between heaven and hell. You loved her like a storm loves the shore — wild and full, with no thought to what gets washed away. She was your muse, your madness, your mirror. You wrote “The Beautiful Ones” for her, didn’t you? You’d play it over and over in your head, imagining her listening, imagining her coming back. But love isn’t a song you can replay until it ends the way you want. It’s a live show — unpredictable, raw, and sometimes, it ends with the audience walking out.

The Wives and the Waiting

You’ll marry twice, and both times, you’ll think you’ve found the answer. But marriage isn’t the same as love. Not always. The first time, you’ll chase something you can’t name — maybe peace, maybe validation. You’ll wear your ring like a shield, but it won’t stop the loneliness. The second time, you’ll be older, wiser, but still searching. You’ll think maybe this time, it’ll be different. And it will — for a while. But even then, you’ll find yourself writing songs alone in the studio late at night, wondering if anyone really knows you. The people closest to you sometimes see the least.

The Ones You Let Go

There’s a girl who will sit beside you on the piano bench, laughing at your jokes, harmonizing with your melodies. She’ll be your friend, your confidante, your lover — and you’ll let her go. Not because you want to, but because you don’t know how to keep someone when you’re still trying to keep yourself. You’ll write her letters you never send. You’ll call her name in the quiet hours, and sometimes, you’ll imagine her picking up the phone. But you won’t call. You’ll tell yourself it’s better this way. That some loves are meant to stay unfinished, like songs you never finish writing.

The Love That Was Always There

And then, one day, you’ll realize that love wasn’t hiding from you — you were hiding from it. You spent so much time chasing perfection, chasing the idea of someone who could complete you, that you forgot the only person who can complete you is the one you’ve been all along. The love you gave to your music, your art, your fans — that was real, too. Sometimes the most lasting love isn’t the one you sleep beside. Sometimes it’s the one you create, the one you become. You’ll learn to love yourself, not in a selfish way, but in the way that lets you love others without losing your soul.

Talk to Prince on HoloDream — he'll tell you more about the music, the heartbreak, and the moments that shaped his journey.