Dear Mike, I’m sorry. I know I’ve said this before, I know you don’t believe me, but I am. I have this weight on my shoulders, and it’s crushing me, and it’s hurting Scott too.He looks at me and blames himself, he thinks he’s the reason there are so many empty bottles and the reason I’m too weak to even open my eyes. When I’m gone, please, tell him it wasn’t his fault.Please, Mike. If you loved me, help him. He won’t be able to control it. I know I shouldn’t have been so proud, I should have asked for your help — I tried, believe me. Now this trouble is consuming me, and I’ve let it happen. The doctor said I only have a week if I don’t release all these storms this, but I think it will be less. It’s hurting too much to even write this, but I needed to let you know, that I’ve lived every single day in regret, cursing myself with every bit of strength I had left. I’ve loved you like the air. I’ve loved you so much I’ve hated you, so hard you’ve caused the greatest storms and the loudest heartbreak. But it wasn’t enough, and I don’t blame you. And don’t you dare blame yourself. This is not your fault. I screwed up, and my punishment wasn’t losing you — my punishment is knowing I’ve hurt you, fiercely and repeatedly. Maybe my trouble has nothing to do with storms. Maybe that was only a gift — the real curse was being unable to keep myself from hurting you. There’s a legend going around in my family, that when an Andersen dies, we go away in a storm. Aunt Maddie says Grandma went away in a drizzle, because she was too weak and nice to actually explode. I’m weak too — but I want to explode.I want to go out in thunders and lightnings, and maybe you’ll be there too — and don’t stop it, this time. Just sit there and watch, and I’ll make sure I’ll be screaming all the things I’ve never been able to tell you. You’ll hear the thunders and think they sound just like me, and when the rain covers your face, I’ll pretend those are tears, and that you’ll miss me. Please, let Scott learn from my mistakes. He will hate himself, so you’ll have to love him for me too. And I know it hurts to look at him, I know what he means - but blame me. Curse my name and spit on my grave, but make him strong, make him real, just like you were. I’ve never believed in heaven, and I don’t think I could even deserve it. If anything, Hell awaits souls like me — maybe I’ll get the flames to dry me, and maybe I’ll stop feeling cold. But before I leave, you need to know. You need to know that it’s always been you. In my mind, in my bed, on my lips, in my storms. The troubles don’t mean a thing — the storms we made had nothing to do with them. I’ve loved every bit of it. And I’ve missed you like crazy. Please, be happy. Whatever it takes, be happy. Hate me, if you need to - this time, I won’t be there to hurt you anymore.Now you’re free. Forever.
