Day 117
Dear Seaweed Brain.
I'm trying, Percy. I promise I am. Trying to stay positive, to wait things out, to have hope that you're out there safe and alive. But, honestly, how can you expect me to have hope at a time like this? I'm struggling. You've been gone for months! There's no clear future out there, the gods are at war with themselves, my mom hates me, and for all I know, you could be dead! I've had so many dreams, nightmares where you're ripped from my life, and when I wake, I realize that they aren't dreams at all. They're real. How am I supposed to live in a state where waking brings no relief to the darkness? When I'm constantly engulfed in emptiness? Am I being dramatic? You bet on Hermes staff I am! I think at this point I deserve to be dramatic. Wouldn't you agree?
Sometimes I sit down to write these stupid letters and I think, "What's even the point?" Don't let me think that, Percy. Give me a reason to write these letters. Come home to me, so I can give them to you. For Hades sake, I might actually let you read them! It's day 117 of our separation and I wish on all the stars in the galaxy that there won't be a day 118.
I love you, Seaweed Brain. I hope you'll remember that.
Love,
Wise Girl