Work Text:
I awaken and return to my letters, I write to many far and wide, when I’m down I go to my mail box, out the sign up, and take my mail out and put all of the mail I’ve made for others in. My favorite days are when I get mail, though rare. Though lately all my favorite pen pals have been rather silent, I still write to them daily, but there is someone new writing to me. The parchment is old and the return address is lacking any detail. The writing is illegible and in a foreign language. Some times the pages are even blank. I read them all anyways.
-
I continue writing my letters, even if all I have to say are lies now. Out of all my old penpals I sometimes get a letter or two a week. Those are my favorite days. My secret penpal hasn’t missed a day, oddly enough I receive there mail even on Sundays. The only consistence is the blue ink and its smell of rot. Still illegal and in a variety of languages, on the occasion it’s just an ink spill, all of which are on pages of a variety of age. I read them all anyways.
-
Every week or two I get mail from my old penpals those are my favorite days. I’m not sure they really like me anymore. I write to all of them every day anyways. My faux penpal, who due to ink choice I shall call blue hence forth, has never ceased to write to me. Everything in there letters eludes me, my filing cabinet no longer has room for all the mail from them, I was going to buy another one but I’ve been to stressed to talk to anyone lately, and the mail is starting to pile up among my house along with the smell. Despite
all of this I continue to read them all anyways.
-
I got a letter from a penpal once this month, it made me really happy, it was the best day of the month. Of course I wrote each day to each of my penpals. To make up for all of the lack of usual letters I put in a request to have news papers sent to my house, including copy’s from as far back as they were willing to go. Blue has still written to me each day. The parchment they use is even older still. The smell is begging to be unbearable. I continue to read them all anyways.
-
I didn’t get anything from one of my penpals this month, I continue to write to each of them anyways. The mail from Blue never ceased, I now have a room dedicated to all the mail. The smell is everywhere. On the bright side next month the newspapers will begin showing to my house, dating back all the way to the prior year. On the other hand I keep trying to read what Blue has sent me, none of it makes any sense, I continue to read anyways.
-
Though I got nothing from my penpals I got the newspapers, and much from Blue. This week I didn’t read anything Blue had wrote, I was to busy with the newspapers. The first 5 months were fascinating though I couldn’t get past the one from 6 months ago. How could I? It said I died. I think I finally understand what all my penpals were saying, I thought I was just missing context or perhaps they hadn’t wish to speak to me anymore. Turns out I missed much more. I simply had not noticed, after all how could I, it wasn’t like I was ever alive in the first place.