ADOPTED BY PHAN

PROLOGUE

It's my third time writing this letter, now. Things are only getting darker; I'm getting worse and worse.

I had a different reason for the writing, but trying to exorcise my demons didn't work. As if I could just rid myself of the monsters in my head. I guess that's what made me shut off from everything in the first place. My head just isn't what it used to be.

I've always hated myself for over-playing pain. Always pointing fingers out at everyone but who in fact is guilty. Though the real shame lies in my self-inflicted pain. It's gotten to the point where I'm just picking at my scabs, as if they could never break. But they can; and they will.

My reflection only shows a broken image of the future I'd envisioned in the past; corrupted by fate now, fractured, and fading away. Though I never knew that I had total control over it. That's why I never spent a lot on finding a remedy; I just figured that it hurt for a reason. Now it's too late.

I experience the outside world from my bedroom window. Only on rare occasions do I go outdoors, or even leave my room. It's not that I don't want to see my caretakers, rather I'm afraid. I'm scared to get close. Everyone I've ever cared for has either died or left me. Although I hate being alone, it's better than that grieving pain.

I hate that pain. First the feeling of abandonment. Then trying to cope. Then death; and hope; and the thing Itself.

I've tried a handful of times to sever this thing torturing me. I guess sometimes things happen and you can't do anything. I'm the only one who deals with it, anyway. And I know I did this to myself.

I should've moved on ages ago, been happy already. It's never been that easy for me, though. Maybe it was me that made it so hard? Maybe I never tried hard enough?

It is all my fault. It always is.

I'm not even sure why I'm still writing this. I guess it feels right. It sort of feels like I have to; like an exorcism.

I guess that makes me sound crazy, but that's alright. Lately I feel like I might be - not that I've heard any voices or anything! Just like that everyday kind; where you forget things you shouldn't and you think too much about death.

Maybe you know what I'm talking about. Or maybe you would have known. Or had known. Is it 'once knew'? I don't know what tense to use.

I'm sorry, I just thought there could be a chance of you understanding. I'm tired of fighting with the hand I've been dealt. I take the shit they give me and keep my protest on the inside of my mouth. If the best I can do isn't going to stop anything, then what's the point in trying?

You guys are the only ones that give me the experience of happiness. It's such a rare feeling, though I love when it's around. I guess that means I love you two. That must sound weird, considering you don't know me. It's a subtle kind of love though; like an admiration towards a hero. My heroes.

Thank you.

-Iris