Writing Letters [completed // editing]

| letter thirty december 1 2004 |

"Blessed be the hearts that can bend; they shall never be broken." 

                         ~albert camus 

Dear Angel, 

I'm shaking.

And I can barely see straight. Is this what it feels like, to no longer know happiness. That I'm just so far gone that the only way I can feel anything except numbness is when I drink. 

What's wrong with me, Angel. 

I think this will be my last letter, ever. My last drink. My step father always told me I was a waste of space. I guess that tonight will be the night that I finally pluck up the courage to end it all.

End the endless pit of depression, the nightmares, the numbness, the look of disappointment in people's eyes when they look at me, my own sickness of my worthless, miserable, excuse of a human being. 

I can't do this anymore, Angel, I can't keep living like this, and it hurts. So, so, so bad. I just can't. 

Someone's at the door. 

Goodbye, Angel. 

~ 

It's morning now. And I'm still breathing. Your fault. 

It was you at the door. 

And you have once again proved that you will be my saviour. 

Thank you. 

As always, 

Ash 

~ 

whoa. i saw catching fire today and asdfgjkjkkok ojaih9o sorry, spaz. 

only two people got the contest right. however harlequinlee got it right first. 

they do live in florida, as can be found by the area code (239) which was in one of the earlier letters. 

xx