this is my goodbye letter addressed to you, my dearest
this is my i-wish-i-could-handle-it-but-i-can't-and-oh-god-it-hurts letter addressed to you, my dearest
this is my pain-killing-acetaminophen-heart-numbing letter addressed to you, my dearest
this is my suicide letter addressed to you, my dearest.
oh love, don't panic needlessly; there isn't a thing you can do now.
by the time you get this in the mail,
check your mailbox,
open this,
and read it,
i would be long gone
and you must know this;
i must have been "missing" for at least a week now,
that is,
if anyone has even noticed my absence yet
… and no one probably has.
i can imagine perfectly your reaction to this. it's almost funny.
you will cry, and blame yourself (oh, but love, please don't; it's not your fault, it's not it's not it's not) but you will quickly get over it
you will quickly forget that anyone named "romano"
named "lovino vargas"
ever existed.
"another italy?" you'd say, "what are you talking about?
there is only one italy,
there has never been another."
good.
forget about me.
forget that lovino vargas existed
forget that lovino vargas killed himself
forget that lovino vargas loved you.
because i do—
love you, i mean.
haven't i ever told you?
i haven't?
well
i love you i love you i love you
ti amo
te amo
i
love
you.
and that is why i must go, you see,
because i love you,
and i can't have you,
and it hurts.
it hurts it hurts it hurts
and no amount of painkillers can possibly make the pain go away
no amount of painkillers can numb the ache in my heart.
i know,
because i've tried.
it killed me couple of times, you know,
the painkillers,
the overdose,
but i am a nation
and it is hard to stay dead.
thirty-two.
that is the number of times i have died now
how many times until i stay dead?
but i am becoming weaker
there is little use for me in the world,
the world doesn't need two italies.
i can slowly feel myself fading
soon i will be gone
when you get this letter,
i will be gone.
which reminds me:
you must be wondering why i am writing this,
what the purpose of this letter is.
it is simple:
closure.
i have far too many regrets in my life,
i will not let having never told you i love you be one.
in any case,
everything must have a conclusion,
a period to punctuate the end.
this is my conclusion.
this
is
my
end.
.
.
.
(antonio, i love you
please
live
and
forget
and
forgive me)