A letter from September 10th, 2020

To Kurt, Everything is... ...surreal, right now. When someone asks you how you are, you never answer with honesty, because like countless others, it's so much easier to say a default greet-back than say the complications of the truth, its how's and why's. Or maybe because "Ayos lang" is a default greeting to say back, and the serious talk is something else? Maybe it's for the nights covered by alchohol, if ever you get the rare chance to speak, and not be smothered by your drunk friends' tales. You depend on medication for sanity, and you're ashamed of it sometimes. You remember Ares asked if you took meds, and out of exhaustion and not giving enough ***** to be cautious or covert, you said yes, one an anti-psychotic, the other a mood stabilizer. Silence ensued right after. As usual you wonder who you are. Are you the mania you get, or are you the depressive episodes you're so soaked in? Or are you the dosed-down teen who isn't as sober as they think, but at least not caught with being manic, depressed, or bipolar? To this day you wonder why. I wonder if you still are. About her, well, it's not going well. I'm sure you know why. Or maybe you're saying you don't know like how I'm saying I don't know, cause it's like being neck-deep in history of arguments, passive-aggresiveness, abandonment, break-ups, comebacks, backlashes, cries for help, pettiness, pride, it could go on and on. Deep down you know why. Deep down I know, too. I wonder if you're still with her? If you are, are you happy? Or is it much worse than now? If it's the latter then you really are one miserable ****. I'm expecting by now, at least you've made progress. I hope you do. god, I hope you do. I miss her right now. Maybe you do too, so I guess it's mutual, but I don't know if it's the same degree. Look, what I'm trying to say is I really miss her so much, right now. I want to go and try to reconcile, but as I said, we're neck-deep in mess, and it's festering. I'm in pain, and she's cause me a lot of hurt, I've caused her a lot of hurt, and it's just a god**** mess. I'm really sorry. I'm gonna try to keep up with the online classes and the activities they keep on dropping, for your sake, if it ever makes your situation better. That's another thing that's festering. Your Stat modules need answering, and you god**** know the due date was back in 31. It's way too late, but you know—I mean I, have got to do it still. I hope you're out of this kind of mess there, wherever you are. Or maybe you're in worse? I hope not. You don't write anymore. Remember when you used to, a lot? Now there's just an ember that burns inside your head, and it's flickering. All just ideas and ideas, but nothing gets ever written down on the textpads. So it's a wonder that I'm writing to you. Just don't **** up more often, on whatever situation you're currently stuck in. This sucks to hear, but this is me, your past self, and I believe in you. I know you're still having the suicidal thoughts so bad, but keep on taking the meds, just do so, cause I will. Don't quit on me, man. Cause I sure as hell am not quitting on you. Don't worry, I'll get back to her. I'm just trying to figure out my ways. Be safe now. Truly Yours, Chedron