Dear Stanley [Watty's 2019. Completed]

Goodbye.

Friday, August 28th

I'm sorry.

I'm so sorry Stanley.

I never meant for that to happen. I loved you. I loved you so much.

But that day you weren't yourself. You were somebody else. It wasn't supposed to happen.

I never was supposed to kill you.

But in the back of my mind I think I knew it all along. I think I knew it was my fault.

Mom and Dad knew too. They didn't tell me though. The therapist told them not to, told them I had to learn for myself. They were protecting me this entire time. They told the entire town that you just went missing. No one besides us and Breeze knows the truth.

You are dead and it is my fault.

Breeze and me haven't spoken since the day I found out. She doesn't even come to visit me even after Mom and Dad told her my address and everything.

She doesn't want to be associated with a murderer.

I miss you. I miss you so much. I barely go out anymore. Only for my therapy sessions.

My therapist tells me it wasn't my fault. She tells me you had a very bad addiction, and were addicted to a drug called PCP which causes violence. She tells me that all along, I knew what really happened to you, but my mind was protecting me from the truth.

She tells me that the real reason I went to New York wasn't because I wanted to find you, but I wanted to live the dream you never got to.

She tells me the real reason I was writing these letters was because it was my way to cope with your death and my guilt.

She tells me the real reason I never sent them anywhere or let them go was because I knew I had nowhere to send them to.

I wish my mind wasn't protecting me Stanley. Everything would've been easier.

I wish I died that day instead of Breeze calling the ambulance.

The guilt kills me from inside. It really does.

Sometimes I remember the good memories with you and it makes me smile, it makes me warm all over. Then I remember how you are gone and it's because you were killed and I want to end myself. I want to be up there with you.

But there is something else I've never told you.

The days leading up to your death, I was beginning to lose my love for you.

I was beginning to hate you.

It was hard for me to accept that at first, but I realize it is true. Behind all my love, there was hate. A black ugly type of hate that was spreading slowly all over the place.

You weren't a good person when you started taking the drugs. You were becoming horrible. You were becoming cruel. You weren't being yourself.

I hate writing about you like this, but I need you to understand.

I only wrote about you in a good light all these letters because you were gone. And for some reason, people think that when you are gone, you are good.

But that is not true. You weren't good before you were gone and you weren't good after.

And for some reason, even though I hate myself for what I did to you, I feel lighter in a way. I feel freer.

Because I know I am not hiding anything from myself.

Clinging on to you is slowly destroying me Stanley. It is destroying me and I didn't even know.

I don't know what's going to happen in the future. I don't know what's going to happen to Mom and Dad. Mom has been taking good care of me and Dad visits often. I don't know if Breeze and I will ever talk again. I don't know if I will ever be happy again.

I don't know anything about the future except that I've gained my closure and I need to let you go.

I'm going to take all the letters that I've written to you since March and then throw them in the wind. Because although you aren't in a set destination, the wind goes everywhere. Hopefully you'll get at least one.

These letters hold such a big part of me Stanley. Through out these letters, I've evolved. I'm not the quiet shy boy. I am stronger. I am louder. I am smarter.

Thank you for that. For helping me get to where I am today. Even though it isn't the best position, it is better from where I started off at.

I love you Stanley. I love you so much. And I miss you.

But it is time to say goodbye.