🌀 / SNAIL MAIL / ACCEPTING
—the top of the paper has been torn off, as if she already chose to start over.
I feel real akward writing this and I’m sure you’l laugh at your old self for saying that when you read this in whatever time, but here I go, right. Guns blazing.
And I don’t really wanna say any of this because it feels… well shit if I know how it feels, you know I’m not good at this sort of thing. I don’t wanna admit it, I guess. I spend so much time keeping this sort of thoughts away. Even if no one’ll read this letter, I… don’t want to have blackmail matterial? I guess. But it’s probably that line of thinking that’s stoping me in the first place. I hope you know how sinsere I’m being, by the way. (Is that the word? Lin told me it the other day. Tell me if that’s the right one. Tell me what Lin’s like then, too. Tell me what all my friends are like. Do I get any new ones?)
Anyway, I really hope you’re happy. I hope you’ve got a family and stuff. I, uh… I do miss my family. I wish my dad had been I wish I could still talk to mom. I still want to find my brother. They’re not important, I want to say, but… sometimes I still remember Lilli and it makes me kinda sad. I want my city hideout back. Did you ever get to go back to that?
I hope you’re S+, too. Or at least LV. 50. Resha’s getting closer every day. I don’t talk to her too much anymore, I’ve been, focused on Dustin. Does Dustin still talk to you? I feel like he’s ignoring me now. I want to do something about it but I’m
—at this point, the dulled pencil marks turn sharper. there are smudges on the paper, as if she’d taken her time to brush the shavings off the page.
I don’t want to be scared. I’m tired of being scared. I’m tired of being angry and I don’t know the word but it always feels like something’s after me nowadays. Ever since the whole run in with Max and stuff. Are those people still important? I want to kill Max, I really do. I can’t do anything against him. I don’t know anything about Splatlings. Not good against them. Not good ones, anyway. I shot one at point blank the other day with the rg. He makes me feel helpless. So does Dustin. I want to say I hate Dustin, I really do. I… this is fucking stupid but I hope you end up with him, future me. I don’t want him mad at me. He doesn’t get mad. I don’t know what I did wrong.
I mean I’ve done a lot of things wrong. But to him. I just… when it’s him, he’s different, he’s mine, he’s always been mine, it’s been about me and him. I lost him once. I can’t do that again. But I don’t know what to do. I’m scared.
I really hope you’re not scared.
I don’t kn I feel like this is I’m running out of room so I should stop writing. But I hope you don’t laugh at me for this. I hope you’ve been nice and you’ve fixed all your problems and you’re not scared and you’re a good person. I want to be a good person. I don’t know how to fix it. I need Dustin to help me with that, and he won’t. I hope he helped you.
—the paper is torn again, cutting off room to write when there should have been more. it’s been crumpled and undone multiple times, edges frayed and covered in idle pen marks. finally, it has been folded into thirds, with bold lettering demanding ‘DO NOT OPEN’ on one side.