It's been a while since we've talked. How have you been? Lately, I've been going through everything. You remember? I could never look through it all before. I sorted through the old files, one by one. I forgot most of it, really. That suffocating feeling of being there--both wanting to be locked away in a solitary prison within my mind and never wanting to be away from her. We drifted, of course, after what that fool did. And then there I was, in that lonely cell. Somewhere in there, my mind broke and I collapsed inward. My hand was never not stained with ink and my ears tuned out the sound of keys before the breaking point. Time moves on, as it always does, and I lurked there as a ghost with amnesia. That wasn't the first time it happened. No, it happened once before, when I was very young. Do you remember the lake we went to a long time ago? At that forest? The week we went, the whole area was covered in fog most of the time and we stayed in that little cabin. When I was a small child, I went there often-wandering. From what I've heard, I was a very different child before they found me down there. I don't have any memories of what happened before then. I spent many years haunting that place, aimlessly wandering with my mind emptier than the sky. I don't remember much of the time period. Most of what I know is from what I've been told and what I wrote down. I never found what I was looking for there. At some point, I simply "woke up" anew. According to those who knew me then, I was someone different yet again. I was not well then either. I can see that now. The pain of what I could not recall--that burden was too great for me to carry. And yet, the pain of recalling was a far more terrifying prospect. So I buried it, and forgot again. She was there with me. In our mutual brokenness, we managed to stay afloat. We would sit and dream of flying while we knew how trapped we were. Children can't fly. Eternity isn't real. I am a ghost, one who lingered before I ever properly left. For that too, I know is nonsense. Ghosts and demons, angels and monster...all are merely fantasies of comfort. My empty prison soon engulfed me as I accepted the truth. I might've held on believing if she stayed near. But, she left and I stayed behind. We haven't spoken since. You're probably wondering why I'm writing to you again. I haven't talked to you in years either. You knew me when she was here, and you knew me after that. Something's been clawing at me recently...somewhere deep in my mind. I can almost see it, and I feel myself breaking again. In my dreams, I'm surrounded by ghosts and bodies. Hers is always among them. It's are too. You're the last one I see in the mess of red. I'm afraid of what my mind is telling me. I went down to that little cabin recently, following the river there like I sometimes did as a child. Well, so I've been told. The lake was empty as ever, but someone was staying in that cabin. For a moment, I saw her there, but that couldn't be. She didn't recognize me, and I know she wouldn't forget my face. I stayed there a while. I'm not sure how long. Time always distorts itself in my mind. My memories of being there are hazy. While I was there, I felt it starting again. Some days, I woke up standing by the river alone and clueless as to how I got there. This is shameful, but sometimes I woke up in bed with the woman staying there. I don't think her husband ever saw. I didn't see him after the first night, though I still see his face in my dreams. I need your help. I can't go back to how I was, not again. I can't live as a ghost, aimlessly wandering without any time or reason. Surely you, with your background, can help me. I'll be at your home next Saturday, July 7th. Please, I have no one else to turn to. I'm alone. Oh, and please don't be alarmed by me having your address. Edith gave it to me. I'll see you soon, my old friend.