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Dear Wilbur,
This will come as a shock to you I know. Because you always believed that I was going to stick around, to follow you everywhere…
I have.
I’ve followed you down roads that I didn’t even know existed, I followed you down paths that ended up in eternal failure-
I followed you to the end of time and then some.
Leading me to my untimely doom. Resting in a place without you of some horrible and sickening tragedy that wears me down with the constant ear-shattering noise of a train that I know somehow leads to you.
And yet I don’t dare get on that train. I don’t want to see you.
I leave this letter instead, this one that I could never send. I can barely write this out as it is, tear drops splattering the page because I know what is coming next.
I love you.
I love you so much that it hurts Wilbur Soot.
And yet you never loved me back.
You watched as I crumpled to the ground, you watched as my empire fell, you watched as I became the most powerful man on earth and then shattered under your feet. Because I wouldn’t’ve dared to hurt you. I could never, under good conscience, hurt you. Because through it all I could and can still write stories and wax any type of poetry about how you could light up my world, steal all of my sunlight and I would think you were the most beautiful type of moon. I still think you’re the most amazing thing on this planet. That if everything else passed and the world turned cold you would be my warmth, you would be my ray of sunshine, cutting through the dense fog that took over.
But you aren’t any of that.
You never were.
You couldn’t’ve cared less if I was hurting. If I was stuck under rubble from a mountain, you wouldn’t dare risk getting your hands dirty. If I was crying, you would bitch about having your coat soiled by salt. If the sun exploded you’d make sure that I was standing in front of you, and I’d let you. I’d let you put me in the fire just so you could survive a few more seconds. Because you’re everything to me. Everything.
And being everything means that letting go of you is even harder.
It hurts Wilbur, though I doubt you care. I want you to.
The cavity in my chest is ripping apart and filling with water that spills out through my eyes like an uninvited storm. Compressing all of my organs until it feels like I can’t breathe, makes me feel like I can’t think. All I can do is cry. Because all of my love is spilling out of me with nowhere to go, grieving something that used to be there.
And I hold this letter to you, Wilbur,with the tears flowing freely and my composure cracking.
I used to be so powerful without you.
Get lost,
Schlatt