Page 200 of Wrath

I’ll be honest with you, I don’t really want to do it. Not yet.

I’m 50/50 that I’ll find out all of this is just me losing my grip on reality. Some kind of sick, post-trauma wish fulfillment bullshit.

If it is, Mills, I don’t wanna know.

I love this. Almost every morning now before I wake up, I can almost feel you wrapped around me. Do you know how good that feels?

Everything I need. It’s everything. I’d die to really feel that feeling.

In fairness, I guess I’d die for a lot less. I’ve been wanting to die- intermittently, at least- since Mom found out what happened on the bus. And even more since Alton. I don’t want to be part of a world that hurts people like that.

Do you? Like, fucking seriously. I don’t want to play the game if all the rules are bullshit. I don’t want this all to just be pain.

If that makes me weak, I don’t care.

I’m not weak. I just need someone to hold me. So I- pretend.

I see the new therapist in a few days.

The man from AT&T said he’s going to call me back himself- also in a few days.

I strained my throwing arm just a little. Send it kisses. I’ll kiss all your freckles in my dreams.

Maybe I am actually crazy.

Don’t think I don’t know that.

Do you play cello, Miller? Have you ever played? The last two nights, I dreamed of a cello in the room where you were holding me so fucking snug.

When I checked our old school’s website, it said you play drums.

Ezra

September 9, 2019

Hi, My Miller.

I played college football this past weekend!! NCAA, baby-

I passed for 197 yards, ran for 66, and I split starting time with Hollis even though he’s got seniority and he’s been playing well lately.

I’m not gonna lie- it was everything I wanted. I got a little freaked out right before we ran out on the field, but after that, it was like riding a bike.

The coaches are happy. I feel like I’m living in a dream. When I walk around now, everybody knows me. It’s weird.

You watched football this weekend at a sports bar. I saw it on your Snapchat.

Did you watch me?

I like to think you did. That maybe we were friends, at least, and you were happy for me.

I’d like to think you thought about me.

I feel weird that I’m writing these fake letters to you.

For a while, I felt happy. Like at least I have this good thing, even if it is weird. Now I feel more weird, though. You have your own life, and I guess I do too.

My mom left a message with the floor monitor at my dorm saying she’s coming to visit me Wednesday and Thursday this week.

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