Dear Sister Yvonne,
Sister Yvonne, I want you to see this one. I want no one else to see this. I will offer it to you when I have the chance.
This might be like anytime else, but it feels like forever. This forever is longer than the last. If you understand, it means it has taken too long for you to return.
What could you be doing that takes long? I do not want to sound anything rude, but for something like whatever it is you are up to, you are to tell me. Then I would accept it and know that even if it takes this long, all I will look at is you coming back.
I have replayed that imagination where it is you arriving at the slot more times than before. I have turned sides more times than before. What even is the day today?
What has scared me the most along with you not being here anymore is that you might be leaving me on purpose. Leaving me alone knowing that I can get to the stage where I feel nothing is to help me. You have to know about that.
Every minute I see you, and every day I think about you, giving some of your food to me, teaching me, I always see you as the person you are. The kind one, the one who cares about me, the only one who is there. I do not want you to be gone.
I both fail to and can imagine many things, but there is one thing I cannot imagine or picture in my head the words. You leaving the slot, moving away, and that never happening again. Soon will it leave my head, and I fail to know you anymore, or even me.
Then would I feel like not a human but that air the room is filled in? I do not feel my skin, bones, and anything else. Just a thought that is there, unable to think or do anything like speak or write, but there to exist, and that is all.
The worst part is that I already feel like that. Nobody will know this room, nor about me. Nobody will take your place in helping to save me.
Those people at school you talk about will have other things to do in their lives that take the thought of me away. What am I supposed to do? Is this what Mama wants?
Are you caring for Mama? Is she in danger? How could there be anything worse to come that does not get on me?
I know I sound too full of myself, but it is tough to talk about everyone fine and not me, who is not. I feel that I am putting myself in the hidden. So sorry for talking about myself, I think I did something wrong.
There has to be something to tell me all the things I have done wrong and tell me what I could have done differently. Had I did nothing wrong in my life, I would have been walking in the same space as you. If you can see this, this is to mention I felt deeply you might be in danger, which I used to find it impossible to come to you.
You are prevented from anything bad that can go on outside of there. There has been so much you showed to me, things that you got, things Mama gave to you, and everything else. Why must it stop at all?
How does it stop? Do you stay at the place I am at, but without a room and with something else I do not know about? Did you stop, Sister Yvonne?
Knowing the answer I do not want or never knowing the answer at all, both are equal, sends me deeper into the room. My body sinks and I get those headaches that always come. I do not know why that happens.
Do not leave me when I need you. Leave me when there are other people to help. I feel that this is not the worst a human can get to, and that I whine too much about this, like this, you not being here, is not a big problem, and that things will be fine after.
It starts getting hot in the room, and I would use the reports and the letters to blow air on my face to stop the sweat if I can find it. I can not see where it is and all that time feeling the floor until something touches me, that are the papers, has yet to lead me to where they are. I will get to them soon.
Can you bring the biggest paper you can find and blow the air on the slot to make things feel better? Or can you bring something that gives light to the room to find the papers and to restore the white I used to see? Are black and white colors?
I even forget the color of the clothes I am wearing. But when that does not matter, I will never stop looking onto that slot as long as I am here. The air outside is not different from here with how hot it is.
Do not be anything bad that weakens me. Care about me even when you are away. I do not want the memory of me to fade for too long and I do not want the memory of you to fade for too long.
Sometimes I laugh, though nervously, at situations like this. Then the voice in my head comes in as it has never done before, saying "stop laughing, this is something bad, something terrible". Not wanting to speak, another voice speaks to the first voice, saying "please let me laugh, this is to feel something, let the laughing distract from thinking about all of those things again, there is only so much to think about".
—A.D; probably the month after June