To my dearest friend

By Evie Sum

It’s been a long time since I last wrote to you. Apologies, things got... busy, hah.

You know how it is.

I miss you. You were so fun to be with, lighting up the room with your smiles and

effortlessly connecting to strangers. A lot of people always likened you to a

bird, didn’t they? Pretty and strong-willed, with wings that take you wherever

you want. I really like birds. That must be why I liked being your friend.

Hey, did you know? I’ve always envied you.

They say a bird born in a cage doesn’t know it’s a prisoner. Without knowing that

it’s crippled, it dies happily in the cage.

You were so kind. So beautiful. So taken by the illusion of freedom, it hurt.

Because you were never free, were you? Bending over backward for other’s

whims, fluttering about ‘till your wings were so exhausted, you couldn’t fly away

even if you wanted to. Your own feelings trapped you in eternal servitude.

I wanted to save you. Somehow. Take you out of that cage and set you free, even

if it meant you left me. But how could I, when I too was trapped by society and

all that exists? By the norms and the people?

So I had to break out first. You understood, right? Why I killed them. If kindness

was the cage, if feelings were our shackles, all I had to do was... let go. If I

killed our friends, well, wouldn’t we be free from the brainwashing we call

“emotions”? Couldn’t we prove that we were truly as free as birds?

What am I saying? Of course you understood. You had to. You too were one of my

friends. That’s why, when I pressed the knife into your hands, you killed yourself,

right? To free yourself in the only way you could. Thinking back, I should’ve left

you one or two of them, so that you wouldn’t have to resort to such measures...

or maybe it was better that you died. I wouldn’t want you feeling as guilty as I

do. It might be hard to believe, but I am still sane.

...I really do miss you. But I won’t apologize for the horrors you witnessed,

because those horrors are things I embrace, now. They’re a part of me, no

matter how much I dislike them. And because of them, I’m closer to being free.

I’m much closer. I have to be.

From,

Your ex-friend, a guilty bird

Rationale: Just wanted to experiment with a story in a letter; thought those were kinda cool. uh, y'all are free to interpret this as you wish.