Letters To Him

CADENCE.

Dear Nobody.

So today, I began thinking about life. About our purpose for being on this earth. Fact of the matter is, it doesn't matter if you're famous, or poor, or blind. It doesn't matter if you have a great or crap family, and it certainly doesn't matter if you're skinny, tall, fat, blonde or brown-haired. When we die, none of it matters. We will all be slowly perished into a heap of dirt, and buried away, not one thing about us remaining. And this is where you might say, we will be in other peoples memories. But all the people that had us in their minds will perish as well. Then what do we have? Truth is we don't get to keep a single thing. Our bodies will turn to dust, our friendships will fall apart.......all we really have is this tiny human life, where we will experience our father beating the shit out of us, and okay you know what, scratch out the we for I because I, Cadence Maria Jennings, have experienced that. I know, I know, this letter is a complete drag, but give me a break okay it's my first one.

Here's something about me. I love writing. I feel like the word love is overused and overrated so let's just say that I adore writing. I like the way I can make words come to life, that the letters are all moving, breathing, forms of nature. I can look at different parts of the world, and using those images, I can string the words of the pictures into a beautiful sentence. Does that make sense? I hope so, because its one of the only things that make me feel like human life on earth, is a life worth living. And before you freak the hell out thinking I'm suicidal or whatever, it's not that. I don't want to end my life. I can tolerate it. I just don't understand the purpose of it. It's just something that drags on. Nothing is worth living for.

Nothing I can think of as of now.

XXCadenceXX.

I licked the flap of the envelope and smoothed the ends over with my hands. My hands were quite bony. I wasn't an overly skinny person, I was of average weight. Maybe a little bit more on the skinny side. My hands, however, were tiny. I was always insecure of them. I felt as though they weren't in proportion to my body, and I always liked to keep them tucked away, which wasn't hard, because like I said before, they were really freaking small.

I place the letter on the bedside table of my room and stared at it for a while. What should I do with it? This letter wasn't meant for any particular person, I already addressed it to nobody. But it just felt weird sitting on my side-table: sad and lonely, and nowhere to go. Quickly, without thinking, I scribbled down a random, fake, mailing address, and placed a stamp at the corner of the letter. I knew that mailing this letter to a fake address would result in the same fate as just leaving it here on my side-table, I wasn't an idiot. But that's what the purpose of a letter was right? It was meant to be mailed. I couldn't just leave it here.

"CADENCE" my mums voice called from downstairs, "DOWN".

I swung my backpack over my shoulder, and tucked my letter inside one of the small pockets of my bag. Today was the first day of school, or much rather, the last first day of school. I was a senior. Thank freaking god, I was counting down the days I would graduate and leave that building filled with nothing but fake people. Oh god, I sounded like such a narcissistic bitch, but I swear to god, I wasn't. I was just bored of it. High school, teachers, rules. All of it. Life was just dragging on.

I walked downstairs, and jumped when I reached the third-last step. I always did that. I wasn't sure why, I just did. I approached the kitchen and noticed the large 8-seater dining table that we owned. My mum was sitting on one of the chairs, as usual, drinking her black coffee. She placed a bowl of eggs on the seat across from her, which was left for me. This table was sad. It was so big, but the only people who ever sat on it nowadays was me and my mum. I had vivid memories, of me and all my siblings crowded around this table, laughing and throwing eggs at each other. My mum would roll her eyes, and pretend to be mad at us for making a mess, but would then end up shaking her head and throwing some eggs herself. My dad would laugh as well, but would bend down and pick up the eggs, and pour it into the trash can. The table was filled with laughter and joy and any other good, comfortable words you can think of, just insert it in this sentence.