006 : dead love letters

Joshua Bradley,

Would you believe me if I said I wanted you to move on?

Oh God, I know I'm being dramatic and I know that, if it was me receiving this, I would roll my eyes and tell you to man up, but it's been playing on my mind over and over and over and over and over. I look down, I see you and I wonder why you're still gloomy. I realise it's because my selfish actions left a damn big hole in your chest, and I'm sorry.

But it's healing, even if the progress is slow and you feel like you're decaying right along with me. I dread to think what my corpse looks like now, and I'm sure you do, too. I hope you don't think as morbidly as I do, Josh, but that was always me, wasn't it? You were always the optimist out of us, excluding a few outliers. Is that why you tried to fix us? So we didn't decay like a fucking corpse?

It's been one year and three months since I died and you still visit my grave every weekend.

I wish you wouldn't.

Love, Julian