How?

Today was different somehow. I can't describe it, but it feels like something's changed. Bizarre.

This very morning, I found a strange text file in my writing program, title RAINMAN. Opening it up, I saw a message. In big, bright, bolded letters was a Good Morning.

My hand paused while scrolling down, as I saw that there was a lot of empty spaces added in, extending the file further down.

And in a second, I found more words being written.

I have never in my life received a message from you. Guess my surprise when I both recognized and understood exactly what was being written. I apologize in advance.

I can't believe if you're real or not. The message you wrote was my first proof, That my delusions had any real meaning.

But then again, How likely was that, something I simply wrote to myself in a delusion, to sate my longing for a worthwhile conversation?

Fairly low, I would say. For me to suddenly spin that onto myself, it would mean either one of two things.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

Either this is actually real, or I have fallen so far, it might as well be nice to indulge a little.

In either case, believing this to be real is more beneficial than it isn't.

I wonder, deeply and as honest as my heart can be shed. How long do you have?

Your words were filled with sorrow and agony, as if you had been fighting something for far too long.

I saw a man dragging his broken legs across the dead soil, collapsing with each lurch, face turned sideways to not suffocate as the breaths grew unnervingly shallow.

I see that in your eyes, the desire to let go of that life. One which has dragged you down, and never let go.

But let me ask you a question.

Why keep me alive?

If you die. I will truly have lost too much, and my heart will shatter. But that wouldn't be the worst thing in the world.

I would never be able to live, knowing that a life without you would be as empty as it is.

Cheesy, right?

But think about it.

In all my life.

My shallow few years.

I know there are so many people out there. Unique and special.

But I bet I will never meet you, and after a long time. I would be different enough. Practically someone who murdered their previous self and carried on their name, living as if living was a sin.

And that's why you haven't died yet? Have you?

It's unfair for someone else to have to die and suffer for your weakness, for being unable to simply live in a world which might be just a little too tough sometimes.

I'm sorry for causing you so much pain, for not being aware until we were old and dry.

If you have to die, I'll see you soon. I was planning on dying anyways. So let this be the last days we have to be, miserably sulking in our corner of the world,

Watching the days fade away, underneath the clear blue sky