Sort of Dead

87 - Fare Thee Well

The future looks promising. Es, of course, will stay with Uncle and me in his mammothic goth of a mansion. We'll get her homeschooled, teach her how it works now that she's basically human. I don't think she'll ever change, though, and I don't mind.

I don't mind at all.

I've led a crazy life. If anything, 'crazy' is an understatement. You now know better than anyone.

You've been here with me through thick and thin, after all. You've listened to me ramble on about my love and weakness for blood. You've sat (or stood, or whatever) through some awful pieces of poetry that I composed. You've seen me act like a jerk, you've seen me try to make things right. And succeed, to some extent. You've seen me make friends. You've seen me vulnerable, you've seen me angry. You've seen me dead, you've seen me kill. You've seen me grieve, you've seen me laugh.

It really feels like you're a part of the family now, doesn't it?

Funny, because you didn't even know who I was when you flipped the first page. You probably just thought me a quirky madcap, and I don't blame you. At all. That's exactly what I am. But at the same time, it feels like . . . I'm so much more, you know? Despite the fact that I'm just a normal teenage boy now, I have never in my stupid, strange life felt more special. I guess we're all special, if we nudge ourselves in the right direction in just the right way.

I'm droning on, ain't I? Sorry. I don't want to stretch this. Uncle and Es are almost done with the cooking, and I start my new life with this dinner tonight. I start a normal, normal and special, life.

When we first started out, I told you this is the story of how I die, over and over again.

But somehow, this has become the story of how I came alive.

If I were you, I'd go back to where this all began and . . . well, rummage through, you know. Skate through our journey. (Do you know how to skate? You don't talk much, I'm always the one babbling on. Ah, well.) If I were you, I'd take a look at what all I've told you once again. Skim through the dumb stuff, the boring stuff - and extract the best out of it all. Take a mental picture and frame it in a triptych. Vacuum the lessons learnt, savor the memories made, smile at the good jokes, frown at the bad ones (I know I can be pretty lame).

You know. The typical sappiness that accompanies departure.

So yeah. Just wanted to thank you. For being there, for listening (reading? Are you reading this?) to me. I'd say you've helped me keep my sanity, and I won't be exaggerating or acting soft in retrospect.

Maybe come to my next birthday(s)? Figure out where {Undisclosed} is and what our real names are and drop by, have a cup of coffee and a nice warm chat with your very own Marra. I'm the ugliest teen in the world anyway, I'll stand out in a crowd. Door's always open.

As I said, things look bright. We made them look bright. It's like we swapped a clunky old Polaroid for a digital Sony.

Whatever. You get it.

Of course you do.

You were here the whole while.

Thanks again.

Not stretching things thin.

Yeah, I'm going to dinner.

This is way too drawn out.

I'm leaving.

See you around, if the feeling is mutual?

Until then.

Signing off.

Bye-bye.

Yours truly,

Sort Of Dead.