Not Really an Open Letter
Published: 17 April 2019
Some times, you come across a site that has some interesting shit like, I don't know, InspiroBot. And you come to it often, hoping you'd get a better kick out of it from your last visit. It happens. Isn't it weird, though, if the site talks about you and you find it entertaining to be reading about you? Perhaps you think this is all a joke or, well, something that is meant to entertain. That's all fine, I guess.
But if you can see your eyes the way I see them when you look at me, knowing that you had just been entertained, you don't look entertained. Why is that? Because you know deep in your mind that this isn't entertainment no matter how entertaining it seems.
I see a sadness. And I don't know where that comes from. I hate seeing it— I really do.
You may try to hide it in conversation with anybody else who is around. But I am deaf in my left ear and I don't really hear that small tremble in your voice when you react to something that someone tells you. I don't hear your voice fading when you notice that I am listening. I don't hear any of it.
I will always listen. Deaf as I am.
But at some point, this show will stop one way or another. Perhaps, you will realise that you have the privilege to make a choice on how it is all supposed to end. Use it. Yes, it's a story. It's your story as much as it is mine. I just happen to be the one writing it at the moment.
And no, you didn't give me any wrong ideas. I've always had them. I am always wrong. I know that. I've always known.
Bring your face back soon. Your real face, not the cartoon. Leave the black to me. I am used to it.
I am the darkness, remember? You are not. You just shine.
Always shine your brightest,