A,
you like grey because it is both black and white. It is neutral. It is how you see things, life. But you wear black. You see yourself in black. The only issue in changing that is your writing. How will you continue writing in melancholy if it isn't there any longer? And if you do, how will you handle the impact once you crash down again? Will you live? This letter was intended to be cheerful unlike the last, but being cheerful has never been your strong suit. I don't blame you. Not for that, at least. You have always blamed yourself for being you, and so have I, so have others. But you stopped hiding eventually, yet you don't feel proud. You always tell others to not point fingers because nobody is the bad guy, but you point ten fingers in your direction. Ten fingers that are daggers. And with that you remind yourself that you are the bad guy. You are to blame. It isn't about self-loathing or sympathy. That's pathetic. You have no idea what it is about, do you? Neither do I. But you've told yourself that if you keep dragging yourself along then perhaps you will. Except that I'm the voice that tells you to drop to your knees. Why listen to me but not others? When will you stop listening to me? Stop listening. They say to listen to yourself though is what you would say. Make things quiet for once. Stop.
- A
