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.
