Dear Elena... Yes, you heard that correctly—Hell has frozen over. I'm writing it all down. Granted, I'm a half-bottle in, thanks to my 1950 Chateau Cheval Blanc, a bottle I waited 65 years to open. I used to spend nights sitting in my wine cellar, convincing myself I could actually hear it age—tannins growing, fermenting. But, appreciating its beauty didn't make the time go by any faster. The bottle just laid there on its shelf, torturing me while I waited for Katherine and time stood still. Eventually, I convinced myself that no sip of that wine could ever taste as good as I dreamt it would, so I hid the bottle and walked away. And that is the story of why I drink bourbon. I don't know who I am without you. But I do know that as long as I'm without you, time will stand still. So, who is Damon Salvatore without Elena Gilbert? A selfish friend? A jealous brother? A horrible son? Or maybe, with a little luck, I'll do right by you. Because you may be one thousand miles away, or one hundred years away, but you're still with me, and my heart is right there in that coffin with you... Until you come back to me.