@thestoneyumi, @ulrichstcrn, @odddella
Yumes, Orchid and Kitty,
My dad was buried today. I don't know how long it will take me to actually tell you this time. This feels like the hundredth letter I've penned to the best friends that I could tell anything with ease, with no effort at all - we live together. Not telling you guys should be so much harder than telling you, but somehow when I think of you, the words won't come. There are so many things I've written down in this notebook that I'll never be able to say aloud, and I'm sorry for that, but not as sorry as I would be for saying it at all. I have broken enough here. I don't need to layer you guys with my bullshit.
My mom asked how you guys were. I don't tell her about the way your hands shake, Yumi, don't worry, I only tell her about your smile when you look at Kit. I don't tell her about the missed meals and the missed time, Odd, just the excited phone calls where you have to tell me something right away, where you sound so excited I could die. Ulrich, I don't tell her about your silence, or your hand in mine, or the way sometimes it feels like you're going to shake apart right in front of me - I tell her about the way you want to teach me to defend myself, the way you care so quiet but it's never hard to hear you. I don't tell her about our broken parts. I'm sorry I broke all of us.
I don't know what she's going to do without my dad. They've been together for thirty years, since my mom was fourteen, and I don't know if she knows who to be without him. I want to think that she does, but I know that I've only had the three of you for less than a third of the time, and I don't know who I would be. I'm so scared of losing you that it burns in the back of my throat every time I remember that I could. I can't get your code back from the universe. Be careful.
I'm glad you guys aren't here. Normal people, they go through hard things, and they want their loved ones there because, well, things are hard, but they're easier with the universal you around. I don't want the three of you here to see me break. I cried yesterday. Don't know how long it had been, since I cried without having been asleep immediately prior. Sometimes, I think that maybe Ulrich tells the truth about how he feels more than I do. At least his silence is honest.
I want to spend an entire page writing apologies that the three of you will never read, would never understand if you heard, but I'm so sorry. I'm sorry that the only support I can provide is money, and I'm sorry that I tell all of you to open up about everything and never tell you a thing. I'm sorry that I told you I was going on a business trip. I'm sorry that the idea of telling you that I am mourning feels like defeat because the idea of being comforted by any of you feels like giving in and giving up and showing that I'm still not good enough for the three of you. I'll never be good enough for the three of you.
I've written letters to William and Aelita that look like a long string of code because I can never keep it together. I'll write a symphony in C++ before I am able to express myself like a normal human being, and I'm still writing letters I'll never send because we live in the same apartment and be fucked if I can watch you learn how to hate me, learn how to pity me. I can't and I won't and I'm sorry.
Jeremie out.
Return to the past, now!











