I'm sorry I haven't written you since, you know, a while... I'm thinking of excuses now, but I can't really find any good ones. I haven't found the strength to. There, that might do...
I'm still stranded on this isle of alone. There's nothing going on in here. The sun rises and it sets and rises again. And I... I just stand by and watch and stare. I stare into the nothingness of my existence till my tears and my blood dry on my skin. I don't even know what day it is. I lost count so long ago. I used to be so enraged screaming and hitting the walls till my knuckles showed, but now... now I don't even bother wiping anymore. I just stare... Sometimes I see things, hideous things coming alive. Frail bodies covered by wrinkled gray skin and a pair of glassy eyes staring right back at me from above some elongated sharp set of teeth. Others are huge, raggedy putrid flesh hanging out from their carcasses and their sockets that once used to hold some eyes. Yet they still stare... And there are those bodyless shadows moving swiftly around me but I can still catch a glimpse of their yellow glowing eyes. They all carry the stench of death. They all whisper, mumble words I can't comprehend, their gibberish getting louder and louder, yet still whispery. They don't scare me no more. They dwell in my head. I've stopped carving them out. They're my only friends now.
Anyways, it's good you're so far away from me. I'd probably kill you if you were near. I'd paint you red and stare right at you while you bleed out. I'd crush you over and over again until you're empty too. I'd suck every bit of life out of you, and drag you to my world of the living dead.
You see, that's the depth I'm floating in these days, and, yes, it's good you're not here, as I'm headed even deeper into this bottomless murk. The echoes of cries and wails would eventually fade. The howls would stop. Memories would merge into this gloom. Every reminder of life would dwindle into nothings. There's nothing left to see anymore. There's nothing left to feel anymore. Nothing to hold on to. Simply nothing.
Fairwell,
Forver,
Your Nobody