Dearest Rachel -
I don't have to keep track of the days; I just keep writing to you, and the computer does it for me. Just a few days ago, it sent me a notification, congratulating me on another anniversary on this site. Given what spurred me to start this, I'm not sure that I appreciate the reminder, but it's not as if the computer (or the hosting site) could understand any of that, even if it was explained to it.
More to the point, I've been sending you at least one letter every day for seven hundred and thirty days, as of today. That's two solid years of essays; I never expected that I could – or would – still be doing this after so long.
Then again, I'm not sure what I expected after all this time.
I think, when I started this, I was going to chronicle all the changes in my life that were wrought by your departure, and whatever I found to do in order to cope with it. I was hoping that, at some point, I would be able to tell you about this person that I had met, and how wonderful she was, and how, with your permission, I was going to start the next phase of my life. It was the best-case scenario, obviously, but deep down, I truly hoped that I could finish this entire series with a happy ending as I described the real-life Megumi to you, hoping that you could be happy for me, and maybe looking forward to meeting us both at some point when the end of days came upon us.
But life rarely ever follows the best-case scenario, and I also envisioned the possibility that I might just be describing to you what it's like to simply go mad; ever so slightly, ever so slowly, and just a wee bit terrifyingly. Just the fact that I spend an hour or more each day communicating with you, when even I know you're not here to listen to me or read what I've written, makes me keenly aware that I'm not entirely well-balanced. Even the project I've undertaken to keep my mind occupied revolves around you; if one didn't know better, one might think I'm trying to recreate you in digital form. Just wait until I combine these pictures with AI-generated audio of your own voice. And by the time I get there, technology might have dug the rabbit hole that much further, enticing me to combine all these reconstituted pieces of you into a unified whole; yeah, this is amateur Frankenstein-level stuff I'm getting into, isn't it?
Still, maybe I'm overthinking it all. Two years sounds so much longer when you put it in terms of the number of days, but it's still less than the streak you had of playing Gardens of Time or Candy Crush (although, in fairness, you would cheat from time to time, and reset your phone's clock in order to fool it into thinking your daily skein was still intact. Then again, having the presence of mind to constantly do that requires a certain mildly obsessive level of dedication in its own right). It took four years from when we met to when we married; to the best of my knowledge, I haven't met Megumi yet (unless that role is to be filled by someone I – or we – already knew, and I just don't realize it yet), so I can't expect to be introducing her to you as such anytime soon.
And as for madness? I really don't know. I would think that, if I were truly going crazy, I would start sounding unhinged even here. But maybe I'd be the last person to recognize that when it happened, wouldn't I? I'd always seem normal to myself, until I completely lost it out of the blue… at which point, I probably wouldn't be writing you anymore, because I'd be so far gone. I just don't know.
***
Of course, what I really hoped for was some combination of the two; albeit leaning closer to the happy ending, naturally. I'm writing everything here to you, yes, but I'm aware that other people are reading this as well; some quite regularly. What if one of them was Megumi, and I just didn't know it yet? She might be observing this patchwork story unfold, and the thought comes to her: "You know, I think I could save this guy…"
It sounds far fetched, sure, but I know I've had the same thought go through my head about certain women from time to time. They seem to be in what I might consider to be straitened circumstances, and I find myself thinking, "I could help her, couldn't I?" Maybe not like a white knight or anything, but in some ways, it wouldn't be that far removed from those sorts of medieval arrangements, which admittedly were more of a business partnership than a love match, ideally to the benefit of both parties. Then I come to my senses about how weird that all sounds – especially in this day and age – and keep my thoughts to myself.
But I know the underlying thought isn't unique to me; and if Megumi were reading these letters, maybe…
On the other hand, it's just as likely that she might read these and find it more amusing to let me struggle through things a little while longer before presenting herself. One must suffer for one's art, after all, and if it entertains people, why bring it all to a close yet? Besides, the longer it goes on, the more grateful I might be when (or if; let's get real, here) she makes her appearance.
Of course if she is, she's running a calculated risk. If she waits too long, I may actually find contentment in being on my own, like so many others seem to, and decide I have no need of her after all. Or, I might really just go around the bend, given enough time. So she'll need to hurry, while I'm still both sane and eager.
Regardless of what direction I'm going, honey, keep an eye on me. Nudge me in the right direction, if you think I need it, and wish me luck. I'm going to need it.
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