Florence Eisley is dead, according to her death certificate and her loved ones.
Gone. Buried. Already rotting away into nothingness in her little grave.
Ethan hasn't seen her in over a year, after a falling out that left both of them too awkward to...
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As of today, it has been exactly one year since the last time we have seen each other in person. One year since I confided in you about my then-breakup with Kevin. One year since... that night.
A night unlike any other. A night that I won't soon forget, for as long as I live. A night where it felt like anything was possible. A night where you made me feel like I was on top of the world.
And sadly, a night where my world came crashing down soon after.
You said a lot of uncomfortable truths that night. About me. About my past. About how I hide myself behind other people to avoid dealing with my flaws. About how I'm always running away.
Things that, looking back now, I realize were all correct.
Things that I wish I had paid more attention to sooner.
What are we all, except for flawed human beings, trying to convince ourselves that we're somehow masterpieces? But at the same time, I'm tired of feeling like a work in progress all the time. I wanted to mean something to someone and that night, I realized that it wouldn't be you.
Shortly after you left, Kevin and I made up. You probably already knew that we got together since I sent you an invitation for our wedding, but of course, you never showed up to that either.
Even though we've gone our separate ways, I still find myself thinking about you, wondering what you're doing with your life, and how right you were about everything you said about me.
And I know that the fact that you're reading this now means that I'm dead, and I'm sad that I never found out where us could have gone, what the future would look like if fate had been kinder.
I don't know how far into the future from this letter I'll die. It could be tomorrow, or next week or next year or maybe in ten years. Maybe you're an old man, reading my words from the past.
I'm so sorry to burden you with this task but there was no one I imagined who could handle this better than you. I feel like you're the only one I can trust to be honest, to cut through the pleasantries and decide what sorts of things are worth surviving past me and what aren't.
And, if, for some reason, you decide to not help me either, I would understand. I wouldn't want to help me either. But I do hope, in some small part of your heart, you find a reason to help.
If you do, you'll see a side of me that I've been too scared to show anyone, a side that you've suspected from the start. The parts of my personality that I've been too scared to show anyone. The parts of me that have been longing to be free for as long as I can remember. For too long, actually.
I hope you take the proper care and I know that you'll do exactly what is right for me.
I'm sorry we couldn't meet again. I'm sorry that things ended so badly for our friendship. I'm sorry if I made things weird or made you uncomfortable in any way. I really thought that you felt the same way that night when things started getting... heated but maybe it was just me.
Maybe in another world, you would have felt the same way. Maybe when we die, we get to live our entire lives again, but with the chance to do things differently, to avoid the same mistakes. I just hope that in the grand scheme of things, you don't think of me as a mistake because you were not a mistake to me. If I had to go through it all again to meet you, I would, in a heartbeat.
Thank you, for reading this, for coming this far and for making such an effort for me.
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