a letter not in the thirty days of letters thing.

Dear you,

I feel like I'm losing you. I feel like you're starting a new life, and I have absolutely no place in it. And I don't like it. All you tell me is how you're so unhappy, but you're not doing anything about it. If you're so unhappy with her, and what's going on, than change it. Staying with someone you're not happy with because you'd be miserable without them is absolutely ridiculous. And don't take this as me telling you to end it. I know that's what it sounds like, but it's not. It's me telling you that I hate it when you hurt, and she seems to hurt you a lot, which makes it incredibly hard for me to be friends with her because all I want to do is rip her head off for hurting you.

Everyone on this blog is probably sick of me talking about you by now. But I can't help it. You're the person I think about whenever something goes wrong, or something goes right, or something that just happens. I know you don't watch Grey's Anatomy, but... you're my person. You are my Christina Yang. I will always be there for you, no matter how hard you try to push me away, no matter how many times we start to lose touch and then start talking everyday again.

I'm starting to wonder if we don't talk as much when you're upset because you know I'm going to look into you, and make you think about things you don't really want to talk about. I'm sorry if that makes you feel uncomfortable, but that's what best friends do.

I'm going to stop now because I'm rambling and you don't even read this.

Love,
me.

4. Your sibling(s)

Dear you two,

I know I should probably write something really corny about how much I love you here, and how you've made me who I am. It's what everyone else has done.

And I guess you have made me who I am. But right now, in all honesty, what I feel towards you is a sort of protective indifference. In order to make this fair, I'm going to order it randomly. Out of the two of you. Whatever.

You:

We babied you. In a way, it's probably all of our faults you ended up the way you are now. But honestly, how much of it was nurture and how much of it was nature? I can't even tell anymore. The temper tantrums you throw are insufferable. The way you drive everyone crazy is infuriating. I don't want anyone to hurt you, least of all me, but we need you to grow up now. It's time to come into the adult world, and stop living in a world of playthings.

You x2:

I don't understand you. I probably never will. He got it right when he said we could call you me too, you know. And at first, it was endearing. To know that someone was looking up to me, that making the right decisions wasn't in vain, because someone (you) was going to be watching my every move and making decisions based on my own. But that's just it. Based on my own. Not doing everything I did. And while I hate that I became this sort of idol for you, that I can't have a minute to myself to breathe, I'm beginning to hate the decisions you make for yourself, as well. I told you a while ago some of the story behind my brief brush with psychopathy. (Not my own, of course - we all know I'm too distanced from myself to be able to admit any type of feeling.) And hun, you are going way beyond anything I'd ever known before. Just... enough with the drama. Stop saying you hate it when you create it. Stop attaching yourself to people who are going nowhere in life. And by all means, stop manipulating everyone around you. It's a surefire way to get yourself seventeen cats that you barely clean up after and a cell phone that never rings.

- me

I don't tell you things, and that makes me a bad friend.

I don't tell you that you are the most important thing in the world to me, and, all melodrama aside, if I lost you, I don't know how I'd be able to move on.

I don't tell you that everything I do, reminds me in some way of you.

I don't tell you that I'm scared about caring this much about you, because it makes me vulnerable.

I don't tell you that I'm scared about my future, and what it means for us.

I don't tell you that I need you more than anything, because I don't want to scare you away.

I don't tell you when I'm worried about something, or hurting, because I've never done that, and mostly, I don't want to burden you.

This makes me a bad friend, and it's not fair to you. I don't give you the chance to be my friend. I rarely give you the chance to be there for me. And I don't know if this is what screws up our relationship, or if we're really just not meant to be forever.

I wonder why it is

that I'm horrible to the people I love most.

I am afraid.

I'm afraid that I won't be able to find happiness.
I'm afraid that I will always be alone.
I'm afraid that my disease has crippled my ability to live.
I'm afraid that I will never be good enough for anyone.
I'm afraid that my life won't amount to anything.
I'm afraid that the reason no one loves me is because I'm not worthy of it.
I'm afraid that I'm going to go off to college and have the worst time of my life.
I'm afraid that the only way I know how to live is through fictional character's feelings.
I'm afraid that I can't seem to share my feelings with anyone, least of all the ones who matter.
I'm afraid that I will end up pushing everyone I care about away.
I'm afraid that I can't seem to make myself rely on anyone, or need anyone at all.
I'm afraid that I won't let myself connect.
I'm afraid that I will never find anyone who completely understands what I am and what I've gone through.
I'm afraid that if I do, they'll run away, because they can't handle someone as broken as me.
I'm afraid that I'll end up being miserable at best.
I'm not afraid of dying; it's living that's scary.

People are screwed up in this world. I'd rather be with someone screwed up and open about it than somebody perfect and... you know... ready to explode.

- It's Kind of a Funny Story by Ned Vizzini, pg 397

an amazing day in photographs that will have no explanations.

This is my family.