26.10.2000

Do you think of me at all anymore?
I thought I'd send you a happy-birthday message once again. I haven't tested the address in a year or so, and in a way it doesn't matter if you receive it or not. I want to try, but I have nothing to tell you. My tongue's twisted and I'm quieter than I used to be.

I do miss you. You're the second person I ever missed. The first one was Linda. She's been gone much longer than you have, but I still find myself thinking of her. Sometimes I walk down the street and I wonder what she's doing, where she's now; the same way I sometimes stop and start smiling, remembering something you said.

I'll be twenty in a bit less than two weeks. You were twenty-one then, when I first got to know you. Twenty-one with gray hair. You were so beautiful in my eyes. Would you, could you ever understand that?
You might :) You always seemed to.

Why do I keep crying? I wish I could let you know that I'm all right, I wish I was all right, for your sake. Because you were the first one... the first one who made me want that. (I know it's a bit silly, but you gave me what I needed to have then, you gave me a reason to believe.)
Sometimes I wonder if I knew you at all. Sometimes I know that I knew you as well as a person can know another. I think you sensed it too. I think... no, I feel like I was betraying you. Like I wasn't trying hard enough. Because I'm not trying. I'm not trying at all.

Sometimes I think that everything I've done the past years, I've done it because you told me it was going to be all right. Because you told me it'd be all right. Because it has to be.
I can't believe it. That's why I think I'm failing you. That's why...
I don't want to live this life. I just don't. Whenever I think of the future it terrifies me. It terrifies me because it's pointless, because it's painful, because it isn't enough. That's what gets on me the most, it isn't worth it. Waking up in the morning is energy wasted. And the energy seems to be fading anyway. On Wednesday morning I couldn't get myself out of bed. I literally couldn't. It scared me, funnily enough.

After all the days I've rushed around the streets, hoping and screaming inside my mind for death, all the times I've considered hopping in the middle of the rush hour highway, not even because I believe I'm going to die, but because I simply can't handle it anymore. And then, one morning when I feel like my heart was failing me, like turning over was too straining for my body and I cannot stop thinking that I'm going to die, my heart is going to stop, and then, then I'm frightened. After all this. After all these years.

I don't want to exist anymore.
Maybe it's better that you don't think of me anymore.

I've let myself cry too long. The light of the screen hurts my eyes.