Dear Jeff,

Hi. It's Liu. I don't really expect you to get this, I don't really know how you would or... If you're even alive. Come to think of it, I suppose it might be a bit of a surprise that I am. But - if you do get this letter - it could go three ways. It's very possible that you will come back and finish me off. I know that. But I don't think I care anymore. Things have been... harder since that day. I picked up anxiety and sleep deprivation. Maybe a little paranoia too. I can't really sleep, obvious reasons there. Some nights I can't even walk into a bedroom without having a panic attack, but it's really not your
fault. I have my own house now, but I don't live with anyone. In the event you do come and kill me I'm making this really easy for you aren't I? Well, I just feel like I should tell you this stuff for some reason.

I'm okay, if you care. Like I said, I really don't know how this is going to go. Speaking of which, the second scenario I came up with is that you don't get this letter, which - if you do - makes this sentence very stupid. Thirdly, you do get this letter, which kinda splits off into two little categories. A) you get this and don't respond, or b) you get this and respond. But enough of all that, I'm going to talk to you now like you don't want to kill me, okay?

It's been eight years hasn't it? Geez, time flew by. I went back to school if you're wondering. Now I got a job as an art teacher and a two-story house. Living the dream right? I had a mountain biking accident two years ago and I lost my right leg, so now I have a robotic one. It's kinda cool, but a real bitch to deal with. I'm an artist too by the way, which is sort of obvious, but I paint on the side as I teach too. I'm pretty good if I say so myself. Don't have a partner of any kind, but I do have a few friends. They're real nice people.

It was surreal when I moved. It was the whole "new life, new home, fresh start" cliche that we started with those years ago. When I realized that, I threw up.

I'm not scared of you anymore. I've thought about ending my own life more than once and, I'm content with the thought of dying in your arms. I was suppose to the first time anyway. I forgive you. The person who stabbed me, and killed my parents wasn't my brother. I just hope that he's in there somewhere inside you. Actually, if he's not, you're probably laughing your ass off while reading this. At least one of us can get a laugh out of this, I guess.

I don't think I'm ready to see you. In the event that's what you're planning. Not-killing-me-seeing-me. Don't think I could handle just sitting down for fucking tea with you. Not that I drink tea, I'm more of a coffee person. In an odd way, I honest-to-God miss you. And it's okay, I don't hate you for what you've done. Can't say I approve of it, but I am at peace with it. You can not control it, I understand. That's... the only explanation.

I miss you, big brother.

Lots of Love,
~Liu