I was working today and forgot to write, forgive me. The cherry blossoms are blooming now and there are flowers everywhere.
I had another dream with you the night before last. I saw Siena outside of a hotel room, sixteen now, and you in bed inside and hugged you; Mom (Mel) was there and I asked her why. I phased away before she answered. I thought ‘finally, it’s real and not a dream’. But it’s always a dream.
I am very unhappy this evening and haven’t much to write. I’ve decided on a college but it doesn’t feel like anything. Just silence and prospective worries. I don’t think I want anything. I stopped feeling true cheerfulness long ago. I’d like only to sleep now. It is the only place I don’t feel like this. I keep going on for Mom, you, and cowardice. But I don’t tell anyone else but you. I hate putting stones on others’ shoulders. You probably aren’t here, so you can’t be hurt by anything. Mom always tells me to be honest about what happened and being open, but she’s the one who told me to ask Yee Hee their name and where they lived, a stranger on the internet likely suspicious of me, and who blocked me some time after, but it feels more for any onlookers than you in truth. You already know what this is like. You know what what happened to you is like. But perhaps I am being honest anyway. I wouldn’t want to kill myself if Mom hadn’t left. That was the first domino.
I don’t know. I’m tired. I hope I am not reading like Ulysses. Goodnight, Soren. Goodnight, faceless spectator. Goodnight, painful diary, accessible to all who know my name. You cannot be a letter but to the two-way mirror.
With love,
Alice