𝙒𝘼𝙓 𝙎𝙀𝘼𝙇𝙎 𝘼𝙉𝘿 𝘾𝙄𝙂𝘼𝙍𝙀𝙏𝙏𝙀𝙎 - 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙗𝙪𝙧 𝙨𝙤𝙤𝙩

ii

two: star-crossed lovers

Vivian,

The stars are out tonight. They're more visible than they've ever been in months. I like to think that you are one of those stars, watching over us even when we can't see you. I still remember when you confided to me, a few years back, that you wished to be a star. We were sitting on the roof of my house, like we always did. I go up there a lot now, just for the memories.

Anyway, you had told me that they seemed so free to you, so devoid of human emotions. I remember that I had stayed up for days after that, your words echoing in my head. At the time, I couldn't see why you didn't want to feel human sentiment, thinking that emotions were what truly made us who we were. But I get it now; I get that it's not our emotions that make us human, but the relationships we maintain with the things and people around us.

In a way, you were what made me, me. And now that you're gone, I don't know who I am anymore. I was so dependent on your love that I forgot how to live without it. I feel like a corpse at times, walking without feeling, devoid of emotion like you so wished to be. These letters seem to be helping with that, although they only prove my point, that I needed you to truly live. I may be conscious, but only just barely, hanging on by a small thread. Though, as you once said, consciousness and living are two unlike things.

I could talk for hours on this, but it seems that I've strayed far from my original topic, the stars. The stars shine bright tonight, my dear; I only wish that you could have been here to see them. They shine so bright, I wonder if you too, Vivian, are up there with them. After all, only you could glow so brilliantly.

Your Star-Crossed Lover,
Wilbur