See the Stars with You | ✓

NINETEEN

NINETEEN

I'm sorry.

This probably came as a shock to you, but if you really knew me, you would've seen it coming. No one really knows me, I guess.

But there's not much I can do now, is there?

You probably hate me now. I do, too.

But there are things you don't understand. You probably never will. All I ask is for you to trust me.

I probably don't deserve that, do I?

If you care to remember me, please don't think of me as someone weak.

Though that's exactly what I am, I hope you can do that for me. You've done so much, and you don't know it yet.

If you're crying now, remember that I am not worth your tears. You'll get over it. (Also, because you're an ugly crier.)

I may be gone, but I am finally free.

*

I didn't mean to write you another one of these, but I think you deserve an explanation. (Is that how you spell it? I'm not sure. I hope you're not one of those grammar freaks.)

I don't really know much about you, do I? I want to get to know you, I do. If you're reading this, it's probably too late. (Or maybe I'll have changed my mind and this will be really hard to explain when you get this.) I promise, it's for the best. I'm selfish. You deserve so much better. I don't want to go, but I have to, and that's all I know.

You don't know me at all, either. I tried my best to keep it that way. I should've stayed away, but I couldn't and I'm sorry. You shouldn't even know me.

*

Kissing you was one of the best mistakes I've ever made. I wasn't supposed to come to you. I didn't mean to.

F***, why do I keep messing up? I h

*

I think of you on especially bad days. Remember the light at the end of the tunnel? As cheesy as it may sound, it was you.

It was always you, and sometimes when I'm in a more rational state of mind, I wonder if I'm stupid to give it all up. You pulled me through my bad days, and you didn't even know it. You fed me with hope. False hope. Why am I telling you this?

You may have been the light at the end of the tunnel, but you were also the train. I know you didn't mean it. It's not your fault. You didn't mean to convince me that the reasons I'm going to jump off this cliff for were valid.

It felt weird writing that. It makes it all real now. I wish I could say that you wouldn't understand, but you probably know the feeling more than anyone else. And I kind of hate that. No one should feel like that. Pretty soon, I won't either.

I don't want to die, but I'm tired of feeling like I don't belong here, either. I can't take this anymore. Don't hate me.

*

I know I have no right to say this, but please get help if you need it. I don't have much left here. You do. Talk to people. They'll listen. Strut around like you can do no wrong.

There's probably no chance you're going to listen to any of this, especially after I've contradicted everything so easily, but I think it's easier to convince someone else than myself. I wish I could believe even a word of the bullshit I spout, but I don't. Maybe you will. Because even if I don't mean or believe in half the things I say, it doesn't mean they aren't true.

*

I wasn't meant to fall for you. I just wanted to do one thing before leaving. Something to make a mark in someone else's life. Maybe convince someone that they weren't as bad as they thought they were. And suddenly, you were right there in front of me, crashing into the ocean.

I didn't mean to stick around, but I couldn't help it. All I knew that you felt the same as I did. I wanted to change that.

I could convince you that you're worth living. Why couldn't I convince myself that it could apply to me, too? I kept looking for reasons to stay. There were so many. You were one of them.

I don't want to die.

*

I'm at the mailbox. I didn't know we still had them around. There are so many things I don't know and that you don't know and that no one knows. And that we'll probably never know. Is it better that way? Would it be better to know everything there is to know and live with the burden, or stay as oblivious as we are now?

Because I really want to know how zippers work. They fascinate me. I keep forgetting to Google how they work. How do they work?

This is the last letter, I promise. I haven't read the other letters again, because I know I won't send them, then. I have to. I don't know why, but someone has to keep these letters and remember me. Even if it's for the absolute mess I was when I wrote them.

I'm so dramatic.

I don't know what to write about. It feels like you're staring over my shoulder, rolling your eyes at some dumb pun I just made. Hello, if you really are staring over my shoulder. Please stop, it's weird.

There's also a black cloud looming over us. Over me, to be specific. It may be clichéd, but it's always there, casting a shadow wherever I go. It rains, too, when I don't have an umbrella.

Actually, I do have an umbrella. But it's got pink polka dots and I wouldn't be caught dead with it.

I don't want to write about that anymore. All the other letters were boring. This won't be.

You're one special piece of chewed-up cardboard, you know that? I think you'd be blue. Nothing too bright, because you're not. Should I dab?

I should not dab.

*

The wind is so loud here. And it's almost dark. It's almost empty up here. Except for those three Korean tourists. Why are tourists always to happy?

I don't want to write anymore.

I don't want to write at all.

I'm scared.

*