Dear Arthur Kirkland (England),
Where did I go wrong? How did things turn out like this? We were so close, and yet this happened. I just keep asking myself, "How? Why? Was it worth it? Was Freedom that important to me? Was the price of it worth losing the one I was closest to, the one I admired most, and the one who raised me and called me 'Their Own'?" How could we let this happen? What we had was good, right? We were happy; we were close. We shared more things than the average Father and Son would, but now we can't even look each other in the eyes. Is it all my fault? Is this all because of me? I, I still love you, and I know you still love me, or at least I hope. I honestly don't think we'll ever be the same again. That's a sad thought, and it breaks my heart. But, hopefully, it isn't a true thought. Do you ever sit down, and just think about the past? I do, a lot. Sometimes, I'll go through my old stuff in the attic that you gave me and smile; It's a sad smile, but a smile none the less. Oh! And sometimes, when I'm feeling down, I hold myself and pretend like it's me in your arms, just like old times. Also, I like to, when it's raining, go to the spot where our war ended and just stand there. Sometimes I cry, but sometimes I just stand there, thinking about how I should have just gone back home with you. We could have had tea just like we used to. Well, it's too late for that now, isn't it? I know, I know, I should stop dwelling on the past, right? You know- "Forgive and Forget", "What's in the Past, is in the Past", and "Tomorrow's a new day", right? At least, that's what you would say, or used to say. I mean, don't take this the wrong way, you've changed, and I don't like it. I miss the old You. The one that would sit on his front porch, sipping tea, and waiting for me to return home. Don't deny it. I know you did that; mainly because I would stand off in the distance and watch you, just to see what you were doing. Whether you were going to come barging into my house; drag me home; tell me how much of a "bloody idiot" I am for desiring freedom; hug me, telling me that your sorry for calling me that; and tell me how much you miss and love me, or not. You never did. You never even acted like you missed me. Do I mean nothing to you, after all those years? I always wanted to be like you, but now, I'm not too sure. Maybe, I did make the right choice. Maybe, I've just been wasting my tears. Maybe, you're glad I'm gone, and the price of freedom wasn't as high as I thought it was. Maybe, it was worth it. Maybe, I should've done it sooner. What do you think? Oh well, why am I asking you? You won't even see this; I just wrote this to get all my frustrations and anger and depression and questions out of my mind, and on paper. I guess we'll just keep going the way we are, with no change. It's not my preference, but sometimes change is good, even if it doesn't feel like it.
Sincerely,
Alfred F. Jones (America)