Sometimes they never came
(Used to wait)
Still moving through the pain
They still haven’t caught me yet. I write that as if I have any idea as to how long it’s been, when reality I haven’t a clue. I stopped counting the days the minute I had to start scavenging for food. If you can get out of routine you don’t feel the need to eat as much. The Youth Club might’ve taught us how to scavenge, but they never taught us that.
It’s not too bad though – I follow the river down and use it for water and fish. If I’d told you this time last year that I’d living like Rambo out in the forest, you would’ve laughed in my face.
I think I would’ve laughed too.
Sometimes I think I’m going to make it; that one day I’ll reach the edge of these trees and civilisation will be standing there waiting. Real civilisation – not the façade that they put on. I even dreamt about it once – on a good night when I’d found a hollow trunk to burrow in.
You were there; my mum and sisters too. Even my Dad, though he’s been gone for a while now. You were all there, and as I ran so did you. I woke up before we met in the middle, and I could’ve punched myself for it. Later I tripped over a rabbit hole and sprained my ankle, so I figured that would substitute of the punch nicely. It’s still not properly healed, and hurts like hell when I try and walk. The sensible thing would be to rest for a few days, but the voice in the back of my head tells me I can’t afford to do that.
Self-preservation or machoism? We may never find out.
I have to end this letter here – it’s getting dark and I’m yet to find somewhere remotely comfortable to sleep. I know I’m really kidding myself on that these letters will ever reach you, but I’ll keep them folded tightly in my notebook until an opportunity to post them arises.
It might take years.
Don’t let them erase these words.
Don’t let them erase me.
I’m gonna write a letter to my true love
I’m gonna sign my name
I wrote a letter similar to this weeks ago, but I never did send it. I’m writing this one in the hope you’ll receive it, because as I write this I can hear them approaching. I don’t know who they are – if they’re going to save me or put a bullet through my skull – but I need to write this down before they arrive. I need you to know this.
I love you.
I love you, and I swear if I ever get out of this shithole, I won’t stop running until I find you to tell you. I’d get down on one knee and propose to you then and there.
Fuck, even the thought is too much.
I miss you every day, but every day everything I know about you seems to fade. I still remember your laugh and the flakes of green in your eyes, but the placement of your freckles, the random scars on your skin…they’re fading a little each day, and it fucking kills me. I promise that I’ll spend every day relearning them, if I ever get the chance.
But I need you to promise me something too. If you ever get this letter, if you ever read these words, promise me that you’ll let yourself be happy. Do what makes you smile and don’t doubt yourself for it.
Love and let yourself be loved.
I know you always found the latter hard.
Please remember me – I need someone to know that I was. Even if I turn into ‘Alice from your childhood’.
They’re so close now, and I’m so scared. I love you. Don’t fo