Dear friend,

It has been a few months since I wrote to you;
I can sincerely say that I didn’t miss you;
Seeing the current situation, I assume that you did
miss me quite a bit--we are intertwined, for eternity;
You were there before I was born, and you’ll be there
when I am to no longer be,
and you would've held my hand every step of the way.
I’m a tortured soul; I’m not happy, nor will I ever be:
It’s not a sad thought, for happiness is overrated;
It’s just a matter of life: the sun rises and falls,
We live and die, I want to die. Oh my dear,
how I missed writing these letters;
It’s not pain that gives me the courage to write every time,
but the lack of hope--
I don’t think it’ll get better;
I’ll find myself entangles in fear and hopelessness
for centuries to come;
I’m in love with you, I think;
We have an affair--
You’re the ***** little secret that I hide in every cut on my arm;
You are what wakes me up in the middle of the night,
whispering swiftly about how much you love
and want me with you;
I hear your prayers, my love:
I’ll soon be joining you,
but please, don’t rush the process,
Let me live for a few more years;
Let me feel the taste of happiness for some time
Before you crudely strip it away;
Then we’ll kiss, and I’ll be yours forever.

I’ll write to you soon enough,
so please don’t visit me for the time being;
I know you won’t follow my commands, so why do I bother?
Hopeful thinking, I guess--
Actually, I have one more favor to ask of you:
Leave him alone; Let him live and love and die
As a boring, happy person would;
Take away anything you want from me:
my skin, my blood, my tongue,
Just get away from him;
Don’t put your filthy fingers close to him:
Do it to me--
I’m used to your touch, I might even like it.

Love and utmost appreciation,
A

P.S. I’ll write to you soon,
So beware of the ceaselessly arriving letters.