I don't really know how to start this off.
It should probably be something really profound, right? Well, I've never been all that profound anyway, so I'll just do this my way.
Hi, Justin. If you're reading this totally non-profound letter, then it means that I'm already six-feet under. Dead and gone. And you're probably wondering why, so I'm going to indulge your curiosity. The envelope that Karen has delivered to you is filled with my innermost thoughts. It'll tell you all that you need to know.
It'll tell you why I ended my life.
I guess you also want to know why I chose you.
Why not Harper? Because she wouldn't understand. I love her, but she could never read through all these reasons and get what I mean when I say that I don't deserve life and life doesn't deserve me.
Why not mom, or dad? I couldn't let them know these things; I couldn't let them read all the atrocious thoughts that have went on inside my head.
Why not Max? There's a specific letter for Max in here. Give it to him. Don't read it.
Why you? Like it or not, you and I have always been pretty much the same person. Even though we're completely different. You are the only person that I could entrust these letters with, and in some way, you already know this. We could always understand each other better than anyone else.
So, Justin. This is my story, my demise, my anguish and my torture. This is my life, and I'm giving you a choice. Take these letters, read through my mind, or throw it all away and pretend that you were never handed my explanation.
I think I know which option you'll choose.
---
As Justin finishes Alex's first letter, he too knows what he's going to do.
He's going to read every last word that's written in his sisters swirly, cursive writing. He's going to dive straight into Alex's mind, and he's going to understand why.
Because nothing could ever justify throwing this all away, right? Nothing could ever justify Alex leaving forever, could it? And he desperately wants to know, God, why didn't she just talk to him? He would've listened. Did she think he didn't care? He was miles and miles away, but he still loved her. She was still his sister.
And Max. At least she has something for Max.
He's so messed up right now. Nineteen, in college, and without the sister that he'd become so close with. At the funeral, Max stood beside Justin and didn't say a word. His eyes were bloodshot, his hands balled into tight fists at his sides. Justin didn't know what to say to his younger brother, didn't know how to even be there for him. Justin kind of suspects that he'd been a little drunk; he could smell the faint hint of whiskey and it made him worry.
Justin opens the envelope, shakes out its contents on the bed. There's a letter that's folded and titled 'MAX', and what he thought was a stack of papers is actually a journal. Justin lays the journal aside and takes Max's letter. He walks across the hall and takes comfort in the fact that Max's room is as messy as it always was. He goes to the desk, which is littered with text books and garbage and photos of Alex.
He sits the letter on the clean part, where Max is sure to see it, and he picks up the stack of pictures. Justin flips through them, only stopping to stare at the one of himself and Alex at her quinceneara
Justin takes that photo and goes back to Alex's room
---
Justin walks over to Alex's vanity; he wants to find that necklace, the one with the gold heart (Alex smiled when he gave it to her for her seventeenth birthday, even though it was wholely unoriginal and a dime a dozen. She wore it everywhere). It'd be nice to have it, as a reminder of her (as if he could ever forget.)
When they were both in high school, and Justin still lived here, the thing was covered with jewelry and make up and nail polish and all sorts of other girly things. Now, it's almost bare, save for one bottle of perfume and a black scarf draped over the side of the mirror. Justin sits down and faces himself, looks at his reflection.
He gets some sort of tugging feeling in his heart, a whisper in his head telling him to read the next letter, it leads you here. Justin takes the first letter that had been loose in the envelope and tucks it between the last page and the back of the journal. The journal itself is a creamy white color and Justin runs his fingers over the first page, which is full of Alex's handwriting, feels the indentations of her pen marks and prepares himself.
My Vanity
I want you to look in the mirror, Justin. What do you see? Yourself staring back at you, I bet. When I looked in this mirror, all I saw was failure. I was never pretty enough, never skinny enough, never nice enough, never smart enough. I didn't measure up. I don't know how much time I've spent over the years just looking in this mirror, picking myself apart. No one ever knew this, of course. I was the picture of self confidence, until I was alone. Then I fell to pieces.
I don't know when it started; was it middle school? Even before that? I can't remember. All I know is that the Alex in that mirror was ugly, fat, mean, and stupid. She wasn't a real person, she was a fake. A fraud. She lied everyday and she didn't deserve the friends and family that loved her.
In this mirror, I hated myself. I hated everything about me, and I didn't know what to do to make it better. Those loud patterns and colors and outfits were my defense mechanism; distract the people on the outside from seeing who I really was. I was nothing but my appearance, nothing but the shell I put on display. I didn't know how to be who I was. I didn't know who I was.
But now, as my life is coming to a close, I can see it. This girl, this real girl, was a white wall. Pure, clean. This girl was bland, nothing, and she has dressed herself up, painted on yellows and pinks and blues, and ruined herself. She has tainted the beauty that was innocence, wrecked everything that could've been.
And there is no going back.
---
As Justin reaches the end of Alex's first letter, he feels his stomach twist.
He takes another look at himself, and he can see Alex here, tears in her eyes, face scrubbed clean of makeup, hair in natural waves flowing down her back. She was so beautiful, he thinks, how could she not see that? His heart breaks in this mirror, Alex's image crumbles before him and Justin feels sick, sad.
To his left lies the necklace he'd been looking for. He takes it in his hand, along with the picture and Alex's journal.
Justin doesn't know if he can stomach reading the rest of this.
i did this pretty quickly but im happy with it :) kinda... haha. i really hope you guys enjoy this and i'm gonna try to update this pretty regularly. there will be about ten chapters, maybe more, maybe less. who knows? love y'all.