Page 137 of Dance of Madness

I’m sorry you lost out on that role, really. But I know you’re going to be fine.

Be heard,

-Me

I grin as I reread it. It’s not just our faces we kept a secret from each other. We literally never exchanged names. It came up after probably the fourth letter. I asked if he wanted to use real names, or fake ones.

He said why bother with names at all—it was only us reading the letters. We knew who they were written to, and who they were from.

Honestly, he had a point.

So we’d always open with “Hey” or “Hey, friend”, and end with just “-Me.”

I scan the letter again, then move on to the next. They’re pretty much in order within the book, so when I do occasionally pick up our exchange, I can mostly follow along, even thoughmyletters to him are, well, with him.

Or thrown away. Or lost to time.

Hey,

Whoa. That was some Level 99 rage-dump in your last note.

Fucking love it. But remind me never to get on your bad side. I almost feel bad for whoever did get that role.

Again, though, don’t let it make you doubt yourself. You’re a fucking pro now. Like, you've literally just signed a contractwith a professional ballet company. Let that sink in, let it fuel you, and think how fucking cool five-year-old you would think today-you is. Seriously, huge congratulations, that's awesome.

Oh, and you said something a few notes back that I never replied to…about how maybe the pain is the point. That you don’t just want a flawless performance, you want the falls, and the bruises. The breathless ache in your lungs when you know you gave everything, and it still wasn't enough.

I haven’t stopped thinking about that. It’s a little fucked up, but I get it, probably more than I should.

You also said I sound like someone who likes to chase after things.

…You’re righter there than you know, but that might be a conversation for another time. Or never.

Anyway, don’t let the falls get to you. Think of the sun blowing up. Or a hurricane. Or a volcano destroying a city, or whatever.

Ugh, I really do sound like a nihilistic edge lord.

Be heard,

-Me

I smile.

I used tolovegoing to the NYPL and looking for our book to see if he’d responded to my last note yet. He always knew just what to say.

Whoever he was.

I put the book down for a second, then walk over to where I’ve draped the blue and the white dresses over a chair.

White it is.

I slip it on, checking myself in the mirror before I turn and head back to the bed.

Time for one more note, then I should leave.

Hey,

So, speaking of natural disasters (thanks for rambling on about tsunamis. New fucking fear unlocked…), I read something the other day about how the Krakatoa eruption in 1883 was so loud, people heard it for 3,000 miles. Like, literal continents and oceans away. It ruptured eardrums and shook the entire PLANET. The whole sky world-wide went dark. They say it was over 300 decibels, too, which is literally the loudest sound in human history.

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