Dear friendly person,
You talk a lot. I feel like I know everything about you. And you know nothing about me. So let me tell you something. I have problems. Lots of them. Most will never be fixed. I don't like that word. Fixed. That means there's something wrong, something broken. I know I'm messed up, broken, tattered. And I need help, I need to alleviate the pain caused by my problems. But that doesn't mean they need to be fixed. That doesn't mean they make me a bad person, someone who needs to better themselves. My problems are a part of me and losing them means I lose myself.
But I don't like my problems. I want to lose them. Does that mean I don't like myself? That I want to lose myself? I don't know.
I don't mean to burden you with this, with me. You probably don't even remeber me. I barely recognize me. I've changed. And I'll never go back to how I was. I'm not sure if I want to or not.
I'm still trying to figure everything out. I don't think I ever will, but I'd like to understand some things. I wish I knew what I was doing.
From,
Sam
YOU ARE READING
Letters from Sam
Short Story30 Day Letter Writing Challenge. This work is entirely fictional, with letters written from Sam to those specified in the challenge. I've changed it a little bit, just to fit better with Sam's character and the story arc. This is entirely experimen...
