Ghost Letters: From Tide Till Sunset

Trigger Warning: This story contains sensitive themes including eating disorders, mental health struggles, trauma, unclear boundaries, power imbalances, and references to near-death experiences. Reader discretion is advised.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tide, Fall season – first year of University

Hi,

I won’t say dear, that’s not fitting.

Also, no name. I remember it, of course – just no one mentioned you for a really long time. And if I did, I got really weird looks. Which, honestly, I don’t understand.

How do I even write this?

My mind’s already blanking.

Whatever. I saw you today. Like clockwork at that venue.

Not that you’ll ever acknowledge me. And not that you’ll ever see this.

Maybe I’ll burn it.

Flushing it might block the drainage, so... yeah, fire it will be.

Eventually, at least, maybe in a couple of years.

You see, yours is not the first letter like this. I wrote one – no, pardon me – two others in the last decade. Never sent; sealed.

You know that actually kinda works. Even if I pick them up, I don’t break the seal. Let’s do it with this one as well.

With you. Or rather, your story. Our story.

No offense, I just want you to be gone metaphorically!!

Go!

Haunt somebody else. Or don’t. Not doing so would be best for everyone involved.

So, let’s get you out of my brain. I’m giddy. I am looking forward to this.

Ohhhh, I know how to start!

Fifteen years ago.

Can you believe that? You’ve been occasionally – and mercifully less now – stuck in my head for one and a half decades. And mind you, sometimes I am still at “f-you”, mentally, when you knock again. Which, thankfully, you often don’t.

Alas, I saw you today. Like I said. Scratch that – I wrote it. I was doing well ignoring you. Like always.

Only Daren saw you, too.

Mind you, I had already averted your direction twice.

I swear it’s like you’re rooted there, staring into nothing while I walk away.

I am, in fact, by now quite skilled at that. Hiding in the crowd, waiting till you stare at your phone or talk to a friend.

Which, to be honest, is great. You have friends. Glad to see that, still not the point.

Daren saw you, as I said. Pointed directly at you and was like “omg it’s him.” I was irritated. I evaded you for so long, and he just points at you. Like the veil in my head got lifted.

Fascinatingly, while I was pulling up my mental wall, dreading that he’d make us go to you, and say ‘hi’, I realized he did not want to go toward you at all.

He was all tight-lipped. Stopped walking.

We left the venue directly after.

Admittedly, he was not feeling well altogether – hadn’t been for the whole evening. Still, he stared at you, like he’d seen the ghost you became. Like I see you.

Are you aware? You look the same. Frozen. Like a grotesque, time-traveling living picture. That’s what Daren said. I kinda thought that was just my impression, you know?

We talked about you on our way home. And I was not polite about it. Felt like breathing, so good. I said you have not changed at all. Seriously, do you not have other clothing?

Daren agrees.

Well. I am not mad at you. I mean, I kinda was. Though that was me not knowing how to deal with … everything.

But still, you are there. Still there, with a forced smile and the same frozen expression. In essence, though, it’s like you are a shell. Blue coat, black tights, same hairstyle; same face. Time moved on, yet you seem stuck.

You know, as you have been squatting in my head for such a long time, I’ve been thinking a lot. At least since I started working through this, which I started after graduation.

I concluded this:

I think you might have changed, but your image is stuck in our heads.

I mean, thankfully, not the last impression we had of you back then.

Well, for me it was, till I saw a therapist about it. Now I don’t think of you that way anymore, or that picture is kinda blurry. And to be honest, the timeline was off, then, too.

You know, I used to see you in my head, convulsing.

That was the last impression I had of you.

Until I saw you again, once my voice had already changed, and yes, at this freaking venue. Where I’ve been evading you like the plague.

I feel like swearing, you don’t like me doing that.

At least you didn’t…?

You see — that’s the issue.

I remember how you used to be. Before you got sick. Before you nearly died in front of us; accidentally nearly killed me in the process.

Not that you know that. Not that that was your fault. I guess.

It’s just... I guess I am mad. Okay. Yeah, I am.

Sometimes.

Sometimes at the world, too.

The way you ended like that all those years ago was, in a way, so… unnecessary. Is it hard to say that? I usually don’t like to voice this. But it felt so… wasted?

Don’t know how to explain that.

You were not doing well mentally, which was… as clear as daylight. Even to us, and you are several years older.

Also, for the record: I do swear.

Back then in high school, were you aware that the school asked my friends and me to watch you?

We had you all figured out. We watched you for a while. Hiding behind walls.

An apple and three liters of water a day.

Starting Easter, I think at least, you started getting worse. You did not want help.

I heard your friends scream at you for that, five months before that day. The teacher told us to stay out of it. “It’s already being handled.”

You shielded me from something. Or at least tried to, in your own way. I can only guess what broke you, and what you tried to hide from us.

You know, you used to be… I don’t even know. Strong? Resilient? Heavier? Beautiful. Smart. A little edgy. Not always polite.

But to me? You were nice.

In our second-to-last conversation, you told me to stop asking questions, or I might end up like you.

I asked you why.

Guess I’ve never been good at following directions. Or rather, your directions.

Remember when you wanted me to be silent about you giving me lollis?

I did share them.

You know what stuck with me, though?

You once told me that giving my all isn’t worth it if it breaks me – or if I don’t survive.

Protecting myself comes first. Even if it is about climbing trees.

You once dragged me to the nurse’s office during a school sports competition to get a cool pack. You were really upset.

Come to think of it. You acted strangely that day.

When you shook me six weeks before everything crashed, for not letting you leave.

I knew it was only going to get worse.

I did not recognize your behavior, you know?

Looking back, you gave so many different signals in those forty-five minutes.

I mean, come on. Hiding in a preparation room and staring through the shadow of the door gap at your friends?

I just felt like the way you’re standing was obvious. So, I came over to you. Heaven knows how long you had been standing there before.

And then you didn’t want me to be seen through the gap.

You did not want your friends to hear our conversation, so instead, you publicly cut our relationship. You scared me that day.

You were my language tutor. And the tutor of our group.

Is that considered to be a relationship?

You liked hugging me. I did not know how to feel about that back then.

I mean, I did not like it that much, and you knew that. Still, you did it.

My parents told me not to be alone with you. From then on, I wasn’t, I think. I do remember telling my friends.

Looking back, that might have been your cry for help.

You never said anything – except that one sentence. You never took food, unless I convinced you to.

From that Easter on, your grades dropped, blanking out if you thought no one was looking.

Though, if I’m honest, at least your health issues started before that. I remember you wearing scarves; the constant sniffling. Or was it just a cold?

Those memories are clear. The parts I am sure about, mostly.

You know, the other tutor looked somewhat similar to you. I had trouble keeping you apart when I was little. You used to think it was funny.

In my memories, it is the same now.

I may have replaced you with him?

Or no, wait, the other way. I don’t know.

You see, I don’t remember your face. Looking at you in my head, your face is blank. As in, there is no face. Just hair.

The parts where I am nearly sure it was you later on do not fit the timeline in my head. So it might have been the other guy?

I was told that’s normal.

You know. That winter day, you were dressed up all in blue.

Wearing a winter jacket indoors. Even though the room was warm.

Looking determined.

At least I think that was you. In my memory, I only see your back.

I do realize, especially now that I am older, that that was weight loss. Mind you, my kid-self thought you were like seconds away from organ failure.

Which you probably were not off that bad yet.

When we went to the lake that day.

It was January, cloudy, and snow was falling.

You passed out several times on the way. My group was in front of yours. No – wait, diagonal?

Still, you kept going.

They told you to sit down. Or that we could return.

We, the younger ones, were told to look away. I remember the gasps from behind me.

Then suddenly you were in the lake. Fell through the ice. Though I remember water.

That was loud, in a way, or maybe it wasn’t.

There was no cracking noise.

We heard screams. Your voice from that day, in my head, is distorted? Does that make sense? If it does not, haha, that’s normal. I do not really have a timeline or full pov.

They already had you half out of the water when I saw you.

Then you started convulsing. Lying on the snow.

They told us to go and get help.

We ran. I slipped into a ditch and landed under the snow. Daren and the others pulled me out – it’s a little fuzzy looking back. Like kinda yellowish? Warm? Like sunshine, don’t know.

I do remember you screaming, though. Heard you when I woke up again.

The sound carried through the forest, while we kept on running. My head hurt.

A girl at school called emergency services and a teacher before running toward you.

You were sent away. For a looong time.

We got updates about you. That you were doing better. Gaining weight

You were pulled out of school sometime in between.

You returned to our club three months before we graduated. And may I be forgiven – I hated you for that.

All of us were still at school at that point. We never saw you. You never said anything.

I read about it after starting uni, when I was searching for your name online. Just an “are you still alive?” kind of thing.

You know. Normal.

I had been chill. Until I saw your name linked to an event that happened after you had officially left us. Listed as an assistant teacher.

I was not even looking for you that day.

And then I got angry. Really, really, angry at you.

Unfortunately, while still being furious, I saw you at that venue for the first time.

I was too mad to go to you.

Later, I carried guilt for letting it get that far, even though we were so much younger. And me, in retrospect, doing everything I could have done.

I felt sadness — For you, for me, for us as a group. But mostly… Your image, still frozen in time.

And me being stuck with it. Still, I think it is a blessing that I, in fact, do not fully remember.

Now, fifteen years later, I guess this is my problem: You look as thin as you did back then. They told us you got better.

I… don’t want to get closer.

Sorry.

I guess.

If your eyes see me again, which I know they do – I’ve seen you, see me. I know, you are actively ignoring me, too.

Your smile is not always fake.

I am glad you have friends. I am glad you are alive. But I hope you’re happy, too.

To be honest, Daren pointing at you and letting me be mean about it helped.

I was hella petty there, but like… I mean, you didn’t hear it, and I could have said worse than “bogle.”

You are not.

Just your hair was really messy, and that coat –

If anything, I sincerely hope you’ll go shopping eventually.

I hope you are living. Which you probably are.

Friends and all.

If not, may the ice be gone by the time I burn this later.

Love,

Sasha

----------

Sunset Boulevard, Blooming season, first shift on the job

Dear ghost,

I’m sticking with the name. We have, in fact, not spoken. And the last letter isn’t burnt yet. I sealed it, though, like I said I would.

Guess what, I saw you again. Guess where. Same place as always. I bought something less than 2 meters away from you this time.

You were laughing. Head thrown back and all that. I looked over, because I heard the sound, heard it, before I even thought about checking.

Still that outfit.

I had not seen you laugh in over two decades.

I got mine back years ago. Glad you have yours, too, now.

Even though, yeah, I know, I essentially only see you once a year. Maybe you’ve been laughing all along.

Also, I did check your name again. You live in Canary now!

Married, kids.

Still too bony, in my opinion. Who knows, maybe that’s genes, though.

Anyway. You’re living.

Guess that venue is really just your meeting spot with your friends.

I don’t like remembering the lake. I still remember it raining. Though I saw, I wrote 'sunny' in the first letter. Come to think of it. I cannot fully pinpoint this. It was in my childhood. When? Don’t know.

Kinda funny.

And to be honest, my memories are more foggy now than they were in the first letter. I could not have done more than I did then or in the months before.

I am glad we both survived this.

Let’s keep living.

Greetings,

Sasha