Dear you, Knowing you, you are probably wondering who would reach out to you this way, but deep down I think you know who this is from. I find writing letters much easier than texting, plus it gives a sense of mystery. It was definitely easier to write this on paper, trust me, i’ve tried hundreds of times. Some part of me hopes that maybe, you’ve tried too, but the rational part knows better. I have so many questions that I hope i finally can ask you. How is that great fancy job in New York City going? I’m very interested if it was worth giving up your entire life for. Do you still listen to that one song every morning, right when you wake up? You would be surprised to learn that I now have that tradition too. Maybe that’s pathetic, but it also reminds me of you. Hopefully someday we can see each other again. No, not hopefully. I need to see you again, to look you right in the eye and ask you. “How could you leave us? Leave everything for that matter.” I’m really pouring my heart out here, so you better respond. Anyway, I look forward to seeing that weird scrolly writing that I used to always make fun of.
Best, me
Dear me, You are right. I knew immediately who was writing when i saw your stubby writing. I still do not get why you couldn’t have just texted or called, but that was always you. You always did stuff that didn’t make sense to me, like taking such care of that small child that you weren’t even related to. Sometimes, when I have time to think, I think about that. Well, not that in particular, but you in general. I know that you meant it sarcastically when you asked about my job, but i’ll tell you anyway. It has been going great, in fact I just got promoted to senior manager this week. This would upset you, I know. You never did quite get me and all of my ambitions. Remember, you used to ask me “You know that you will never achieve everything you want, so why don’t you just slow down and enjoy life a little.” Upon rethinking this, there might be some truth in that statement, but you know me. I’m never satisfied. Anyway, I would enjoy seeing you. If you would like, I could fly you out to meet me, maybe next month? I know that you never like using my money, but think of this as a gift. Let me know.
Lots of love, you
I have held many things in my hands, and I have lost them all. Many hearts broken over my own goals and ambitions. Many lives ruined in my wake. I am the worst kind of monster, the human kind. I don’t even try to be better. I think part of me likes causing pain. I ruined the best things that have ever happened to me. Looking back on my life, I can’t say I’ve ever done anything right, ever done anything not for personal gain. Anyone that ever loved me is dead. I tricked them. Fed them with pretty lies and promises of a future. Then I destroyed them all. One. By. One.
It came to me like snails come to gardens: ready to consume The thoughts in my head continue to bloom To grow and to grow, eating away At the very little sanity that I put on display The empty holes, earlier full of useless thoughts Now filled with a lot of puzzling knots To work this out in my head will be a battle The thoughts jumbling through my brain like a rattle
As soon as I enter the ballroom, I feel a thousand heads turn in my direction. Thousands of eyes burn into the back of my brain. Slowly, everybody goes back to what they are doing, but I feel the tense in the crowd. I feel myself being judged, hated, and most of all, I feel their jealousy. For some, it’s the golden curls that delicately frame my face that makes them jealous. For others it’s the price tag associated with my luxury dress. And for a select few, it’s my legacy. They are jealous that I am the prince’s choice for a bride, that I will be the new princess.
March 17th, 1762
It’s getting harder and harder to tell where we are, and i’m afraid we might be lost. I don’t know how to tell the crewmen that we are slowly running out of food as the time passes. I have started thinking about death. I am trying to search for answers, digging in my brain for anything that might help. The only thing that I have is we sail in one direction and hope for the best. We have to hit land eventually, right?
March 21st, 1762
We have been sailing east for 5 days now, and there is still no sight of land. The water is getting harder and harder to navigate, and the waves are only getting stronger. I think there is a storm coming soon. I am trying to get these men back to their families, they have their whole lives ahead of them, but I don’t know if it is possible anymore. I think we’re running out of time.
March 23rd, 1762
I think this will be my last entry. Things are bad here. The winds are getting so fierce that we can’t hear ourselves think and everybody is seasick from going over the huge waves. Even if that want an issue, we officially ran out of food. Now that I think about it, dying in a storm wouldn’t be so bad. At least it would be less painful than starving to death. I never thought that I would be in this situation, pondering death. What could I do if I only had more time? At least I got to tell my wife and kids that I love them for one last time.
Every now and then, it seemed like she opened her mouth and two voices came out. Pure opposites to each other, like she could never decide who could control her. Some days, she was practically an angel, but others, she was the definition of a demon. I have always wondered how someone could live such a conflicting life. How does she think. I would pay to be able to know what is going on in her mind.
There would be no winning. No happy ending, no golden crown. At least not for me. One way, I would loose my true love, my only chance at happiness. I would spend the rest of my life alone, living a life I never really wanted. And I would resent myself for my choice. How could I be so selfish to value my own life over his. How could I ever be truly happy, knowing that his death was my fault. But the other way, I would loose myself. I would loose all of the hard work that I’ve done to overcome this illnesses, all of the pain that I’ve gone through. It would all be for nothing. Or maybe not. Maybe I could live with the fact that he is still alive, and that’s because of me. If I could accomplish one good thing into life, that would be it.
also idk how to end it so just pretend I have a good ending
My hands start shaking and I feel my heart racing. I try to slow my breathing but my mind is racing. Panic, panic, panic. I need to clear my mind. No, scratch that. Just run. But my legs are jelly and my feet have been weighed down by concrete. My mind dances and suddenly I feel as if I’m floating. It’s hard to concentrate, and slowly the world spins out of focus into black.
Im splayed out on the floor, and I wince as I try to sit up. There is blood spilling out of me everywhere. A straight bullet shot to the stomach. The pain is swarming my head, blocking all of my thoughts. Except for her. I’m dying and all that I can think about is her. Her. I have to see her one last time, kiss her one last time, hold her one last time. These are the thoughts that push me get up and start running. Towards her. I strategically hold my coat in a way that she won’t be able to see my wound. I round the bend, and there she is. The most beautiful woman in the world. I rush to her, my smile even larger than hers. I wrap her in my arms and kiss her. Kiss her like I never have before. Oh, how i’ll miss this. I should have kissed her more, told her how much I love her more. Finally we pull away. “Wait I’m normally the one that kisses you first.” She says staring inquisitively. Then, she laughed, and if I hadn’t been so relived to see her alive, I might’ve laughed too.”
