The years went by. Each day the pain – which never entirely went away – dulled a little more as I began to get used to the fact that you were no longer a part of my life. Every day, still, I could not help but put myself through the mental torture of searching my mail for the old, familiar writing that would tell me that I could begin to live properly again; every day, so far, I had been disappointed. It was always the same; maybe, I told myself, maybe today will be different. Maybe today's the day you'll have written to say you'll be coming home.
I'd lived each day as it came for too long now; when the letter came (if it ever did), it would arguably cause more pain than it could heal, but I didn't consider that. I was totally consumed with you, more so than I had ever been when you had been in the world, but this was most likely to do with the closure I had received about my sister.
My raison-d'être had always been to find out what had happened to her; you knew that. Turns out that after she was taken, she had lived with our old nemesis Cancerman for almost six years before she decided to run away. Smart kid. The trail runs cold after she admitted herself to a hospital for treatment – apparently some colleagues of Cancerman came to collect her, but by that time she had disappeared. No one – Cancerman included – knows what happened to her after that.
So I was happy, in a way. As happy as a person half-whole could ever hope to be. And so I waited, patiently, for the letter I knew would come. As I said before, a convent just isn't you; I was banking on you eventually figuring that one out for yourself.
And you did. Thank Christ for that. I'd been keeping an eye on the time, and it was almost at the point where you were committed to staying there for life after final vows – see, I read up about it! Turns out that I'm not always the self-obsessed asshole I present to the world. The day your letter came, I could have whooped for joy.
I'd lived each day as it came for too long now; when the letter came (if it ever did), it would arguably cause more pain than it could heal, but I didn't consider that. I was totally consumed with you, more so than I had ever been when you had been in the world, but this was most likely to do with the closure I had received about my sister.
My raison-d'être had always been to find out what had happened to her; you knew that. Turns out that after she was taken, she had lived with our old nemesis Cancerman for almost six years before she decided to run away. Smart kid. The trail runs cold after she admitted herself to a hospital for treatment – apparently some colleagues of Cancerman came to collect her, but by that time she had disappeared. No one – Cancerman included – knows what happened to her after that.
So I was happy, in a way. As happy as a person half-whole could ever hope to be. And so I waited, patiently, for the letter I knew would come. As I said before, a convent just isn't you; I was banking on you eventually figuring that one out for yourself.
And you did. Thank Christ for that. I'd been keeping an eye on the time, and it was almost at the point where you were committed to staying there for life after final vows – see, I read up about it! Turns out that I'm not always the self-obsessed asshole I present to the world. The day your letter came, I could have whooped for joy.