Dear Jackson,
Currently, I'm using the luminescence of the TV as a source of light. The sound is on mute but based on the guy talking with a black curtain background and UFOs popping up every now and then, we're either sitting in front of a show about alien conspiracies or a guy that survived an alien attack. Both are obviously fascinating topics.
I'd like to start off by apologizing for my horrible handwriting, grammar, and spelling. Usually, I have auto-correct to help me... Is that how you spell auto-correct? With just the little line thingy?
God, I'm great at procrastinating.
The thing is that I want to die. Right now, right here. And I wish you could just come to talk some sense into me like you always do, but the whole university thing happened, and I hopped on a train and my soul shattered when I got a prank call just seconds ago saying you died, and the damn world just keeps spinning.
I don't know how I'm going to survive the thunderstorm in my soul; don't be disappointed if I don't. It won't be your fault. You did everything you possibly could to try and save me. But don't worry just yet, I'm going to try. I promise. I'm on my way back – I'm getting on a train first thing in the morning. I hope you know how much you mean to me. I know I don't ever say it, but I hope you could hear it in the silence of our thunderstorm. And if I don't make it back in one piece... If I decide to do something that I can't take back... please know that you made my last few days’ worth living. It's not you. And it sure as hell isn't me. It's just life. And sad girls like me don't get happy endings.
Shit, it's only getting worse. Now you're getting horrible handwriting mixed with shaky hands. I'm going to just be blunt and end the letter here. If all goes well, I'll be seeing you soon enough in anyways!
More than love,
Danny
