I remember the way your hair looked in rollers the first night you slept in your new room. You had bags under your eyes just like your dad, and I kinda knew why. I always seem to just know. The comforter on the bed was thin and had strange pink and blue pastel colored dots or some sort of design. I had no idea what kind of impact you would have on my future. The entire time I knew you I didn’t get a glimpse of what was bothering you, I just saw how it made you feel. If there was anything I could have said I would have. I know now that nothing anyone said would mean nothing. I know that because nothing you could say to me would change my heart. In a way, I think about you mostly every day. I spend a great amount of my time, holding back tears. I have a hard time concentrating through the flash backs. My mind misses quite a few people on the daily, but none have inspired me the way you have. I may not know the details about your life, but I bet its not much different than mine….. at least I bet we have a similar though process. Circumstance, a bullet neither of us could dodge.
Lynn, what happened to us? A 30 year bridge between ourselves, leading to the same place? The duck on the table in the living room, that you gave to mom, makes me think. When I close my eyes, I see myself in uniform, riding shotgun in the Bonneville. It was windy outside as well as in the car. The cold air felt like it was coming from outside, and there was a big field with rows upon rows of full grown sunflowers. Dancing like ghosts to fantasia’s soundtrack in my head. Somehow I knew childhood was over. Jim Henson died almost 13 months before this day. My brain has been scrambled ever since. 13 months later, I don’t remember crying a single tear, I just remember people saying things like “see the writing on the wall†and comments about how crazy you were, and how everyone kept trying to pawn you off. No one came to your call. I’ve never not been there for someone if I had the slightest idea that your call was similar to the one I received. I’ve made that call before myself and I guess it got answered, but what of it? Dorothy stopping by would have made things worse, and you would be 30 with the same headache and a few extra journals full of the same shit. For someone to say something to make a difference………….. well it would have to have been some magic fucking words to make anything go away. It doesn’t. seems so, sometimes, but then you wake up, and the sun rises on your landfill. The sun rises and sets on hell.
When no one answers the call, writing a letter is a great way to get what ever it is off of your chest. I know about your letter, but never got to read it nor do I remember anyone reading it aloud….. I do remember someone saying something about your Ginny pig. That is the extent of what comes to mind.
Maybe if you had written it to me, I would have eventually gotten to read it. I have thought about tracking it down. But I don’t know if I could take the shock. The whole point is not having to feel again.
It’s feelings that get you in trouble and make your life miserable. The sociopath in all of us is the only way to be happy. To not care, is to be free. Evolution has programmed us to feel , at least that’s how its been described as happening. A survival instinct . . . ironic huh?
Did you believe everything to be pointless? Or did you see a point? I consider myself a Christian, but sometimes I am hard pressed to find the comfort promised. Understanding why everything you love gets not just taken away, but dangled just slightly out of reach….. well its tough. This is becoming the universal method of operation for the daily struggle I have gotten myself into. Even outside of a search for love, at work especially….. I have the talent and the ability to get massive amounts of impressive work done……. But I have this un natural drive to mentally spread too thin. . paying close attention is not an option. Sometimes I wonder if I had that great love I have always wanted…… would the rest just fall into place? Would I be able to let my displeasure for myself go and make things happen finally… the way I always wanted too? How hard is it to correct your own brain and dispel with the obsessive thought of not existing……….
I often think about the time before I existed. Millions of years passed without me and I was fine. I mean nothing to reality. My being here does nothing for anything or anyone. I guess you now understand the nature of my letter.,,,, same as yours. . . and yet again I am breaking a vow to stay. I still kinda care about the people I will leave behind. . . I care about them a lot actually. I don’t want to hurt anyone. . . but at the same time I don’t want to feel anything anymore. I declare I do not want to exist. With everything I have and everything I have accomplished. . . . . I still feel so empty. I even think that my mom was suicidal as well. . and had I told her when I actually said I would. . she and I might have been able to do something about it. . . . she was lucky. . . im lucky as well because I would have done it the second I heard she had done it. If my father wasn’t still alive, I would have already made a great and successful attempt. . . it wouldn’t actually be an attempt because it would be successful.
Who was your letter too? I had always wondered if you wrote it to your actual dad….. or even your grandfather. You must have been really sad, I have always been surprised to know that, because you always seemed so cool and collected.
In closing, I miss you. But im tired of missing you. Im tired of missing everyone. Im tired of feeling anything. My happiest thoughts are when I try to think of anything that happened to me before I was born. Remembering not existing. How fast did that time fly by. . . it’s almost as if millions of years passed in an instant. I would rather not exist, its much better. By far. When we are born, we are these perfect little creatures being pumped full of promises……. only for the world to eat us alive. The world my dear……is a vampire.
See you soon sis. I love you.
<3 max