Kirkland,

You know, I never thought I'd be willingly going to you for advice. But, seeing as my hands are tied, I guess you'll have to do. See, I'm dying. I mean, everyone is. Every day of our lives we're dying. Just slowly. But that's not what I was going to write to you about. I've got promises to fulfill and I'm not really going to be here to fulfill them. The world's just stupid like that sometimes. And I've been trying, old man. I want to do this alone. But I can't. I'm a shitty writer, but a good person. You're a good writer, and a shitty person. See what I'm getting at? Just… piece it together? Make it something worth it for Mattie… Promised I'd write him a eulogy…

Matthew understood the world. It's funny, because people think I would. I know junk about the laws of physics and stars and why the Earth keeps spinning, and Mattie… He takes pictures. But he sees life. He sees it how it is, with all the people laughing and running and little kids crying and cars stopping for cats crossing and even the cars that don't. I see formulas and text and rules. I don't see it right.

And I want to sign my name in the corner of this big textbook of a world. I want some poor kid to walk down the street and see my name scrawled on those notes. But if you think about it, I'm just condemning another poor kid to see the world in the screwed up way I do. I'm not letting him see the sunshine; I'm making him see its chemical process. Mattie… He saw the sunshine. And he captured it to show everyone else who didn't deserve to see it. Even me.

See, Mattie isn't signing his name. There isn't any 'Matthew Williams' stamped on the pictures he snaps. Just a memory alone. But me? I rip my name into the world. I carve it in until the pages are torn and ripped and beyond repair, just like all the other people I've praised that came before me.

We're like love struck couples climbing trees. We want to last forever, so we carve in a heart around our names just to pretend for a minute by leaving a mark, death will forget us. It doesn't.

And Matthew gets this, old man. He understood.

I hate to say it, but I'm glad I'm dying. I didn't want to live to see myself try to cut a big old 'Alfred F Jones' into him. I couldn't live with myself. Guess I don't have to.

And yeah, I'm glad Matthew's living. I'm glad he gets just a little longer. Because he deserves it. He isn't walking around with knives to sign his name, he's walking around with a bandaid to fix everyone else's screw ups. And I was blessed to have him trying to fix mine.

Back a few months ago, Mattie was in intensive care. Crazy, when you think about it again. Seems like a dream now.

But anyways, I thought he was gonna die. I thought I was gonna die too. I just didn't think he'd live to see me go.

And it was selfish, but I wanted more time. I wanted him to outlive me. I didn't want to have to live without falling in love with him.

And my wishes came true, in a sick way.

We've lived to fall in love. But I think I've lived so long he's fallen out of it.

I still don't regret it. I couldn't.

And some part of me hopes he doesn't either.

Alright, Kirkland. Fix it up real nice, will you? Don't disappoint him. He's got enough of that from me, he doesn't need any more.

-Alfred F Jones