As I write this letter, I don’t know exactly what has happened. So, forgive me if any of this is outdated or if I give you information that I’ve already given you. I don’t know when I’m going to have to give this to you. I won’t know until the day I give it to you. I told you there were dark spots that all of my kind have to deal with. This is one of them. Sorry if this letter isn’t being as helpful as you’d like it to be. To be completely honest, I’m not one hundred percent sure what’s going on myself.
But I am going to be gone for a while. To put it as simply as I can, there are years that are locked to me. I can’t get there, no matter what. In those years, I’m not in the timeline at all. I don’t exist.
I’ll be okay. I know that I come out on the other side intact. Frankly, I’m not even sure that I’ll be aware that the years are passing. Like I said–dark spots—I’m not used to things being unknown, but I’ll be okay. I’m not writing this letter so you can come and save my ass, although I appreciate the thought. (Unless of course, you weren’t thinking about coming to save my ass, in which case—fuck you, Arthur.)
No, I’m writing this letter for Maggie. Or, for you, to help with Maggie. I’m not trying to imply that she can’t take care of herself—because we all know that girl can take care of herself better than the rest of us combined. But I don’t want her to have to take care of herself. I love that girl, and these years, they’re going to hurt her and it’s going to suck. I’ve always been there for her, since the day she was born, and now I won’t be. She likes you, though, Art. For god knows what reason, she trusts you. Not the begrudging respect and trust for someone I trust, but she genuinely trusts you. So, check on her, please? Help her carry the load if she’ll let you. Maybe reassure her I’m not dead. Maybe let her know that I’d be there if I could. Maybe get drunk with her and share stories about how I’m an ass for abandoning you all. I don’t know what she’s going to need. I don’t know what she’s going to think of me.
So, please—help her where I can’t. After all, I’d be dead a hundred times over if it weren’t for her.
I’ll see you when I see you.