I had a chat with a friend of yours recently. Well, she had a chat with me. She didn't say very much. She said that your issues are not being worked through, which is sadly not a surprise. You know about Tell Her Before I Die, but you haven't really read it. You want me to stop writing this. I understand.
These messages have brought me through the worst months of my entire life. They represented my hope when I was lost within depression, when I had no idea what was going on or why. They have helped me to think about and understand myself and what has happened to me. They've allowed me to let caring people know just how I actually am, and those supporters have helped to get me through this. As I recovered, their help became more effective.
I needed to write these messages. They kept me alive and made me well. However, lately I've been inconsistent with writing. I thought this was a bad thing, but perhaps it simply is a symptom of the transition in my state of mind. I'm not near the fringe of death anymore. I'm not overwhelmed by thinking a few months into the future. Sometimes when I write now I can't help but feel like shit that you haven't read to try to understand. That wasn't something that bothered me in the throes of depression. I just held on and hoped you'd read eventually, as the title of this collection suggests.
You're not going to try to understand just yet. According to your friend, to you this blog is nothing more than a creepy display of obsession. Does that hurt me? Not exactly, because I think that ignorance is hard to break from, especially when you're surrounded by it. But I cannot dismiss your feelings, even if they're based on blindness. While I'm too afraid of regression to cease my writing altogether, I will stop writing regularly. Not writing may slow down my recovery, but I'm comfortable enough with where I am to sacrifice my recovery for your own. Besides, it's pointless for me to get better if you won't.
I'll still write occasionally. Expect a message on holidays. I'll likely continue to think of you on my outings, so I'll probably come home and write about them. Some days I'll feel like art or poetry or recommending some TV show I just watched. The point is, some days I'll just need to write. When I need to write, I won't hesitate to do it. Just as my recovery means nothing without yours, the vice verse applies.
Dear, I am scared. I have been scared all of these months, in different ways and for different reasons. You're scared. We can get better though, and that's what I will work toward. You inspire me to improve myself as much as I can in your absence. I pray that you find a reason to get better as well. All I can do is stay weak and pray for you.
