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33
Akira
Dear Yuki-Onna,
I don’t know why you feel the need to defend your fucked-up fetish, but that’s what all people with egotistical problems do, don’t they? They instantly attack the opposing party because God forbid if they’re wrong.
And you are. Wrong, I mean.
Stop your nonsense and get some help instead of trying to accuse me of things that would never measure up to your actions.
So what if I watch breath play porn? You don’t see me going around and practicing it. So what if I fantasize about it? I’m not the sick one who thinks about doing it in real life while ignoring every safety procedure under the sun. I’m sure your mom taught you to be cautious. Remember who you were before this madness and do better.
I’m far from being your morality police, Yuki-Onna. I’m just the small angel on your shoulder who’s desperately trying not to be shoved down by your demons (yes, plural, because you have a lot of that shit).
Am I trying to help? Negative. Do I take pleasure in your torment? Also negative.
Which brings me to the question I’ve been thinking about since I read your letter. Why the hell do I look forward to your every letter when I despise your actions and choices?
Is this toxic? Probably. Will I stop? Probably not.
Here’s a sliver of the truth that you’ll never learn about me otherwise. Your mundane letters, no matter how tedious and self-centered, distract me from my head and my life.
And for that alone, I can’t stop this chain of exchange. I have no clue why you won’t, though, since I’ve been calling you every colorful name under the sun.
But, hey, they say birds of a feather flock together so maybe this, whatever the fuck this is, was always meant to happen.
I was meant to send that letter and be excited like a kid. You were also meant to write back and distract me.
My life is everything I don’t want and you’re the only thing I actually have control over in it.
So no, I won’t be closing my windows or getting a talisman. Yuki-Onna is welcome anytime as long as you drive away the boredom.
*insert something witty I don’t have the energy to think of that doesn’t mean love here*
Akira
34
Naomi
Life is unfair.
But if I keep pondering on that, all I’ll be having is a pity party with chips and apple juice as an audience.
So I don’t.
It’s been three weeks since Mom dropped the bomb about her cancer.
Three weeks of trying to be there for her even while she insists on continuing to work as if nothing has happened. She said she wants to keep everything perfectly organized and ready for when it’s time. Besides, it’s not like Mom to flounder about and think about death.
When I begged her to go on a trip with me, she said we’ll go to Japan because that’s where she would like to spend her last days.
Fortunately, she’s not in much pain, thanks to her meds. It’s probably because she didn’t undergo any surgery or chemo.
But the fact remains that the cancer is eating her from the inside, festering in her while she goes through her meetings as if the end isn’t near.
I’ve tried to see it from her perspective and respect her wishes like the doctor advised me to. But it’s hard to pretend. It’s hard to cook together, watch movies, and take hikes while knowing these activities may be the last I have with her.
