It’s almost Halloween now! How are you doing? I’ve been doing little but work for the past few days. I’ve washed the same dishes more times than most at this point.
Aside from this, little is happening. A little drawing, a little writing, little else. Aside from gymnastics, violin, cooking, and watching IHasCupquake I can remember few of your hobbies. Sometimes I think I’m going mad. If nobody believes we are sisters, then how long might it take for us to be convinced? I remember our childhoods, do I not? Do I not see Melanie Mikell’s name on the ink in my baby-book described as ‘parent’? Did she never say “I will teach him to be kind and make muffins.”? Will that she said that ever stop making me want to cry? I am mad — nominative determinism is real, it seems.
I remember that when Pop Pop returned from the war that his eyes had changed color. I don’t remember if they changed from brown to blue or blue to brown. I doubt I’ll ever know now. Pappy liked to tell stories to us, but he won’t ever again. Not to us.
I’m sad again. It’s cold here now. I’m worried about college. I don’t want to study somewhere hot, but it seems the warm places are the cheapest ones. I miss you. I am now relating my trauma to a famous song from a very silly musical: I won’t name which one for fear of mockery from onlookers. Silly musicals are becoming my bread and butter. I’m not coherent today, Soren, forgive me. I worked for 21 hours over the course of three days, almost always standing up. I’m going to go scoop the cats’ litter. I love you.
With love,
Alice
P.S My language is deteriorating into Victorian nonsense; this is because I read too much. I’ve done little to prevent it and I’m slowly forgetting how to speak normally. Forgive me for sounding like Dorian Gray.