Warped, My Vision

Epilogue

Aaron,
    It's been four years since your mother died, and one since our paths split apart. They say it's bad form to get in contact with your exes out of the blue like this, but the distance you forced between us still baffles me. Not because I don't understand--I understand it perfectly. It's the same reason you were reluctant to be involved with me that first morning, and the same reason you ran from that awful blood bath. You don't want to hurt me, and I respect that. I am more mature than I was back then--It's not about me being in pain; It's about you not having to watch me suffer, only to reach out towards me with bloodstained hands.
    You had said in the apologetic letter you left behind before leaving, that you had attempted suicide and hadn't been successful, and then said that you knew it wasn't the work of your father. I'm so sorry you want to end your own life, Aaron, and I know it would be bullshit for me to try to convince you to feel otherwise; you're case is damn special, and there really isn't much anyone can do for you. I know you don't want me to reach out to you again, but I don't care. I feel like I've waited a year too long to write these words down for you.
    Memory is a painting with spots left blank that are up to us to fill in. As our shared experiences recede farther into the past, I find myself unable to recall bits of it, here and there, and yesterday's demons seem less terrifying. I'm unable to fathom what you're feeling right now, and I can't seem to complete the painting. You were always the artist, not me.
    I still don't know why I'm writing this--It's a formality, I suppose. I never truly got to say goodbye, but still, you were absent from my life. Part of my still hurts for you. What I'm really trying to do is tie up some of the messier parts of my past. But that's not all of it; I also appear before you as a bringer of bad news. Six months ago, Carrie's body was found in a local park following a 24 hour manhunt. She hung herself from a tree branch. I still can't shake my feeling of guilt--Maybe I should've been more emotionally supportive of her. It doesn't matter anyway. Her father moved away, I'm not sure where. I feel like I'm the only one left, but I'm leaving soon, anyway. Which brings me back to a farewell to my old life. I now leave behind the threads of my past, and release you from my mind.
With love,
Zachary Parker
P.S. The attached document is something I wrote for you back in our freshman year when you didn't come to school on the grounds that you were sick. I never got the chance to give it to you, so here it is.
    Good things.
    Everyone knows
    That you are one.

    We miss you.
    Even Carrie, who doesn't really
    Like anyone.  I like you. I
    Like you a lot.

    Sorry, I'm not good at this.
    On this paper, I wrote you a thing.
    On this paper, I wrote a thing a kind of hoped would be a poem.
    Nope. It's just a pile of words, I guess.

AN: Sorry I ruined what was sort of a happy ending, but I feel like if you pay attention to most of my reading you would have seen this coming since I have pretty dark tendencies. It's scary inside my skull most of the time...