𝖒𝖈𝖞𝖙 𝖆𝖓𝖌𝖘𝖙 𝖔𝖓𝖊𝖘𝖍𝖔𝖙𝖘

Dear Tommy

TW: Mentions of suicide. 

---

Dear Tommy,

I'm writing this letter to come to terms.

I'm writing this letter because I miss you.

I miss you isn't even enough words to describe it.

3 words aren't enough to describe everything.

And I'm fucking writing this at 3 am, sitting on the bench we used to sit on. And it's really hard because I can't read. Or write. Well, I sorta can. Remember when you said I couldn't, though?

Remember when you said we had all the time in the world?

You promised me we had all the time in the world.

Do you remember the bench?

Of course, you remember the bench. We played the discs to the moon. And we sat there when we won the disc war. The first one.

Remember when all we cared about were discs and bees and each other?

Remember when you said that it was us against the world? That it was you and me?

Remember when I promised that I would be there for forever?

I remember.

I broke that promise, Tommy, didn't I? I broke it. I break everything I touch, I feel like. L'Manburg, your trust.

I can't move on.

And I really mean it. I really fucking miss you, man. I really really fucking miss you.

It's hard. I sat down to write this letter to come to terms, but I keep on distracting myself.

I don't want to believe you're gone.

I don't talk about it. I ignore it. I try to push it away, but it creeps up on me. It's always there, sitting at the bottom of my stomach.

You're gone.

My hands hate writing that down on paper.

But you're gone.

I can't cry, Tommy. Do you know that I can't cry anymore? I used to cry so much at the littlest things. You teased me for it.

Everything feels empty without you. Everybody can feel something missing. I feel something missing, inside whatever's left of what's inside my chest. I can feel the emptiness climb up to my throat.

I keep on going like everything's fine, and people ask why I keep on saying everything's fine, why I'm acting alright, if I'm heartbroken. I never want to talk about it. I can't talk about it. Then I'd cry, but I have to be strong.

I have to be strong all the time, Tommy, and it's hard.

I'm a leader. I never wanted to be. I just wanted to be with you, but I got a country. I got a fucking nation.

I now understand what it probably felt like.

To fall asleep and not want to open your eyes the next morning. For that constant state of dread filling up from your stomach and then up to your chest, but it never leaves. Did it feel like that constantly before you went?

I would jump too.

It's my fault. I know it's all my fault, and there's not a fucking day that goes by that I'm reminded of it, and that you're gone.

The night is quiet tonight, Tommy. The crickets are chirping. You know that you always scared them away, Tommy. That's why I've never heard them before.

It's too quiet.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm sorry. Sorry will never be enough to bring you back, but it feels better putting it on paper.

I miss you.

Guess that's the only way I can possibly describe it.

I miss you, Tommyinnit.

And I'll miss you for the rest of my sorry life. I'm never going to feel alright after this, and I know it.

You know, I wrote this letter thinking that it would help me get over it, but there's no getting over you.

Maybe if I hadn't been so fucking stupid, maybe if I had made the right choices, maybe if we had run away together like we were planning. Maybe if I had thought of us instead of a bunch of other people that I don't owe anything to.

But I do owe them, in some way. They're my friends.

But if they left, it wouldn't hurt as much as this. It feels as if my soul's been ripped out.

Am I doing what's right for my country?

Would you be proud of me, Tommy?

Why can't we just go back? I would give everything just to go back. Just to see you one last time, and not have to pretend that I'm fine.

I guess what I'm trying to say is.....

I wish we really did have all the time in the world.

But life doesn't work out that way, does it?

I hope wherever you are now is better than here. I hope you're happy because you deserve to be. You deserve to be happy wherever you are, somewhere, cussing out angels.

Stay happy for me, ok?

Forever yours,

Your Tubbo. 

---

Inspired by the song Letter to A Dead Friend (i fucking cried when I heard that song it's so beautiful-) 

This is based in the same universe as my We've Fallen So Far books. 

Merry Christmas.