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Dear, Luke.
If you're reading this, then I'm sorry. I know we only just recently began to get to know eachother. However I felt I'd be better off, if I just wasn't here at all.
What do you think comes after death?
It's always interested me, is it true that you get to watch over the world and your loved ones in eternal peace? Or is it torture. Is it just nothingness? Or do you move into your next life?
I want to move into a next life.
When I die, I want to come back as a black cat.
They're like me, they're unlucky, they're antisocial, and everyone avoids them no matter what. But unlike me, sometimes, there will be people who love them, regardless of flaws or history. There will be people who'll care for them, adore them, praise them.
I want that.
Do you think black cats are aware of the hatred placed on them by society? Do you think they're clueless? Or is it just that they don't care? I wish I could be either one of those things.
I will never be a normal boy, I've seen and heard unspeakable things. I can't revert my thought process to how it's really supposed to be. How it was made to be.
I don't know where along the line I messed up, but if I could, I'd stop myself. Something with me isn't right.
I walk into school, all eyes are on me. It's like they know when I'm there, they all turn their head, and they look and whisper, not once taking their eyes off of me. I would like to say that this hasn't phased me, but that's a lie. It has. More than anyone can imagine.
My thoughts are disturbing.
Sometimes, late into the night, when everyone else is asleep, I lay awake, thinking the most horrific things.
What if I were to hang myself infront of my class, or better yet, the whole school? Would people care? Would they feel sorry? Would they panic? Or would I continue to be a laughing stalk.
What if I were to hold a peer at knife point infront of everyone? Would they freeze and allow me to voice my struggles, would they understand me?
Does anyone understand me?
Ive been searching and searching, but to no avail. I don't want to think these things, Luke, but I can't help it.
Would you of been there for me?
You're nice and you're kind, you're like a puppy, did you know that?
You're loyal, you're trustworthy, you're sweet, you're gentle, you're fun and you listen.
No one else would've been willing to listen to me talk about space for hours on end, I know you don't like space, i heard that about you, so why, why did you listen to me? Not only that, I wasn't going to talk about it in the first place, but you prompted me too.
I know it meant nothing to you, but when you said 'Well, tell me about it' that completely changed my view on you.
When Millie was judging my every move, you were quick to shut her down and assure me I was doing fine.
When I messed up, took you out of class and handed you a gift, of which you couldn't even eat, you were polite. You didn't even laugh at me.
During detention, you never joined the other boys antics, I knew they were playing tricks, I knew they were.
You were patient, I remember when you tried to help me with my maths homework and I just couldn't understand it despite it only being National three level, you didn't laugh, you didn't even smile, you sat there and you helped me. No judgment was visible.
Truth be told, you had always caught my eyes.
Since we were four years old.
You're seventeen now.
And I am eighteen. And I only just barely managed to talk to you by chance.
Sometimes I wonder, how is it you feel?
What are your thought processes?
That is another thing that intrigues me.
Not many think of it.
But think of the person you hate most currently in your life.
Think of allll the bad things they have done.
And now, try to wrap your head around their thought process, and why they came to the conclusion that they did.
With some people, you won't be able to even think of a path on how they got to their conclusion, that's how to know if your opinions really conflict.
Sometimes I sit in class, and pick apart almost everyone's chain of thought.
But you're a special case.
I could never understand yours, and for once, it wasn't because your chain of thought was negative. I know it's not negative, I just can't understand it.
It's interesting, I want to learn more, but I never will learn more, will I?
I understand this letter is weird, I know this.
I'm writing off the top of my head.
That artwork, was delicately crafted by my own hands. I worked hours on it, days on it, weeks on it, months on it.
It was my life line.
I remember envisioning a world where once I got into art school, I'd be rid of my worries.
That was some poor fantasy of mine.
It would've never happened.
I would've never won that competition, I was stupid for thinking otherwise.
I'm sure even if I did, I would find a way to make it stressful.
I'm not mentally well, Luke.
I remember, the first time I began to officially starve myself was when I was seven.
Seven, Luke.
I remember the first time I began to cut my self.
I was nine.
I was a child.
I'm sorry you have to read this. But I need to share my emotions to someone. I can trust you, right?
Life has never been happy for me.
Not now.
Not during highschool.
Not during middle school.
Not during elementary.
Not even before elementary.
I was born into this world to be miserable.
That is my purpose.
Ive Never been happy.
Aside from when I'm with you or Daisy.
You two were my life lines, I depended on you two.
I couldn't bring myself to write a note for Daisy. The sheer thought of how crushed she would be makes me want to throw up.
I wonder how my death will effect you.
I hope you'll be okay.
But I can't do it anymore, Luke.
Please achieve your dream of becoming a vet, please settle down and find love, please, find yourself happy.
That's all I want to happen after leaving this world.
This is the final letter from,
𝒜𝓁𝑒𝓍𝒶𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇 𝒲𝒾𝒸𝓀𝒽𝒶𝓂
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THIS IS NOT THE END I PROMSIE
