A letter from Apr 7th, 2022

i wont address this letter to anyone, you’ve already gotten a few of them and know who this is. each years letter looks very different don’t they? change is fine, but i can’t help wondering what went wrong. the cries of my today won’t be remembered by you. i still don’t know if that’s a good or a bad thing. is your plan becoming a reality? every time i imagine you, dark follows with no vestige. will you regard this last letter of me as cringe or a memory of the “bad days”? i call this my last letter because by the time you read this you won’t be the same. love and lust are somewhat a thing i long for, a dream that will stay a dream. unfortunately i don’t think i’ll be able to talk about my hobbies, my likes, my dislikes. it’s hard to know what you like to do when you don’t know who you are. i do not have aspirations for you. i just need an answer, would you like to go out with people not being saddened by your fate or would you like them to care? is it a front? i’ve written quite a bit these days, and so i’ll include a bit of it. are they still all in your notes? and so in my last letter i write in a language unfamiliar to my peers, a language of few words, a language in which mystery follows me, a language that can’t be decrypted, a language where i exist, a language that won’t leave trace, a language where my memories won’t be carried too far away. you’re gonna find me cringe aren’t you i can wish you’ll find this, but maybe it’ll be your family trying to remember me rest in the sun or moon, wherever you find peace. -meer