the sun looks good on you - solangelo

23- the letter

(tw; suicide mention)

dear bianca,

my therapist told me to channel my thoughts into writing, but i have nothing to say to a piece of paper, so i thought i'd write to you. when i'm done with this letter, i think i'll burn it over the stove or maybe just store it where no one will ever find it. it'll be our secret.

but you wouldn't like me writing these letters to you. when mom died, you didn't like it when i'd pretend she was still here. it was harder on you. it was already so hard for you. it was hard for me, but devastating for you.

maybe that's why you did it. no. yes. maybe. i still wonder why you did it, bianca. why you killed yourself. i thought about doing it after you did because once you left, there was nothing left. did you feel that way after mom left? but you had me, bianca. was i not enough for you to stay?

maybe it was me. maybe you felt like you'd never escape me. maybe you felt like i was better off without you. maybe i just wasn't enough of a reason to stay. maybe there was something chasing you or haunting you. maybe you thought life would never amount to anything good with her gone.

i've been there before.

i wished i was dead when you were dead, bianca. i truly did. because when you died, i truly had no one left. if dad hadn't kept such a close eye on me, maybe i would. i don't really know anymore. after you left, everyone thought i was a ticking time bomb. maybe i was. i don't know, i just know the pain i felt and the confusion and the loneliness. you hurt me a lot. i didn't understand, i just hurt. and i guess it put me in a similar situation as yours so maybe i do understand a little bit now. but when it hurt too much, i just became apathetic and numb. it just hurt too much to care. hurt too much to love anyone. i guess that's why i preferred to be alone.

you didn't have to do what you did and i am living proof. living, breathing proof. every breath is a battle, but i am still here. i don't want to die anymore. i think i've become okay with the idea of growing old.

i just wish you'd stay a little longer like i did. i wish you stuck around longer to see the beauty the world had to offer before you died. have you ever seen morning sunlight stream in through windows? have you ever felt its warm race up your skin? have you ever even stopped to sit under the sun?

the way will looks under the sun is enchanting. his gaze causes what feels like a million little deaths and rebirths in my chest. there's not enough words to describe. it is just the shape of him- the curve of his neck when his face is upturned to look at me. the "v" of his collar bones, the shape of the wings of an eagle. the gentle curvature of his spine when he stretches in the morning. and under the sun? he looks angelic when the morning sun illuminates his face like a halo.

i am talking about him too much.

i wish a lot of things when it comes to you, bianca. i wish you could meet him. you two have much in common. i wish you were here to see the beauty of the earth and the beauty of will and the beauty of the sun as its rays find its way into the coffee shop.

losing you was a loss that just keeps losing. i lost you, sure, but you lost me, the sun, will, and all those little moments that you could have shared. and whenever i think of you, i just keep losing more and more. there are so many conversations i wish we could've had. face to face, you know? there's so many questions i want answers to. there's so many words i wish i could hear you say again. it doesn't hurt quite as bad anymore. i just wish you were here.

i could go on, but i won't. i have a million words to say, but you have already heard all of them a thousand times over. i've already written too much. i don't want to dwell on these thoughts too long. you wouldn't want me doing this anyway. it's getting late and i have to wake up early tomorrow to catch the train. will bought tickets so we can visit his family's house in the country. he promised he'd take me.

i wish you could see it, too.

i think i'm going to burn this paper now. maybe its ashes will find yours.

your little brother forever,
nico.