I am so so so sorry for forgetting to write yesterday. I have no excuse but my own forgetfulness, I’ve set another alarm (one that hasn’t time-jumped to 1 AM).
How are you doing? What will you be for Halloween? I’m being Dorian Gray, and I’ll try to remember to send a picture. It has been nine years now since we spent Halloween together now, since Mom (Jess) and I were in Italy in 2015. I don’t remember much about it now. Mom (Mel) was dressed in a Hawaiian shirt and making jokes about her costume. This may have been the year you were a demon and I was Athena/Selene. I remember telling different houses I was a different goddess. It is all very vague now. Perhaps I should look at the Flickr. Do you remember well? I wouldn’t expect it of you; you were younger than me.
I went to Reading, last weekend, a little town, because Oscar Wilde went to prison there. High walls surrounded the prison and you weren’t allowed in, though it’s now closed. They have a small stretch of path dedicated to him and a gate in his likeness. It did not feel like enough. But it was fun to walk around. They had much more fanfare around the medieval church beside it — more to their achievements than their mistakes. It got dark quickly, and it was scary to walk alone at night, so I went quickly back to the station. Besides that, not very much has happened that’s interesting. Has anything happened to you lately, good or bad? Tell me something, mundane or interesting. Anything is something to cling to.
A few friends and I are going to see the Five Nights at Freddy’s movie in a few days. I’ve been excited about it for a long time. I don’t remember your thoughts on horror. Did you watch Halloween with Mom (Jess) and I when I was eight? It scared the heck out of me then, and I still don’t like horror movies, but I like the games, though they also terrified me the last time I saw you. You seem indifferent in my memory. What’s the truth? I think I like about horror is that it lets me fear something inconsequential for awhile.
I don’t know how to end this one. I am ineloquent again today. I miss you. You become more ephemeral in my memory every day. I hate watching it. How lucky you are to never be without yourself; but then again, pre-trauma me is far different from post-trauma me, and likewise dearly missed.
With love,
Alice