#personal letter

[set me on fire]

from archive, 11 march 2026

I don’t know where you are, if you’re okay. I hope you’re doing well and finally forgave yourself. It hasn’t been easy being here, alone, wondering if you will ever come back. Back to me. To us. I keep calling your phone even knowing it goes straight to voicemail. You used to always pick up. Always on the first ring. Pretending that you didn’t know it was me. Like it was the first time we met. But not anymore. Now it’s just a never ending silence. I miss hearing your voice, your scent, your kind eyes, the way you hold me close. I just miss you. The only reason I’m even writing this is because I worry about you a lot. There’s a sick, twisted feeling that something is wrong. That something has happened to you and I didn’t even know it. I hope I’m wrong, I hope you’re still… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, mahal. I shouldn’t have let you go, I shouldn’t have said those things to you. I didn’t mean them, how could I? How could I be so foolish? You were the only person who made me feel safe, alive. We can start over, we can live happily ever after. Please come back. I don’t know if I can keep waiting to hear your footsteps coming towards me again.

Mahal na mahal kita, Gi-hun. I wish I can say everything in person. Only because you deserve the very best of the world.

Your heart,

Ti scrivo questa lettera qui, dove non la leggerai mai, perché ho bisogno di buttare fuori quello che sento e penso che questo sia il posto migliore per farlo.

E te la scrivo in italiano perché so che dove sei adesso non ha davvero importanza.

Ti ho conosciuto tardi nella vita, avevo già 30 anni ed ero incinta del secondo figlio quando ho scoperto te e i tuoi fratelli. Non avete fatto parte della mia infanzia o della mia adolescenza, ma questo non rende la perdita meno dolorosa, anzi. Sono una vostra coetanea (una manciata di anni in più, ma l'età non si chiede mai a una signora) e proprio per questo, forse, mi sento così incredibilmente vicina a voi in un modo che non mi sarei mai onestamente aspettata.

Liam, anima fragile, ho assistito con gioia al tuo periodo in riabilitazione e mi ricordo i sorrisi genuini e pieni di vita che ci regalavi in quel periodo. Stavi bene e si vedeva.

Ma il mondo in cui vivevi ha deciso che tu non ne valevi la pena, perché alla fine questo è. La stessa industria che non ha pietà per nessuno e ha triturato gente del calibro di Michael Jackson e Withney Houston ti ha gettato sul fondo del mare con un'ancora al collo. Ho assistito, impotente e distrutta dietro a uno schermo dall'altra parte del mondo, alla spirale di distruzione che ha ti condotto esattamente là dove avevo previsto che ti avrebbe condotto.

Ti hanno isolato dalla tua famiglia e dai tuoi affetti, portandoti in un paese sconosciuto dalla lingua sconosciuta e senza riferimenti culturali né affettivi, circondandoti di persone che erano lì solo per un contratto e non perché veramente interessati al tuo cuore dolce e buono. Ti hanno tenuto lontano dai tuoi fratelli acquisiti, gli unici che potevano davvero capirti. Ti hanno boicottato la musica, impedendoti di fare una delle poche cose che ti teneva in vita. Avevi un figlio, e da madre so che il suo volto deve averti dato una ragione per svegliarti più di una volta, ma ti hanno tolto pure quello, chissà con quale lavaggio del cervello. Ti hanno fatto credere di non valere niente, di non essere abbastanza, che nessuno ti amasse più. Ti hanno fatto credere di essere un peso e che il mondo, compresi i tuoi genitori che ti hanno messo al mondo, i tuoi fratelli - di sangue e non - che ti hanno amato infinitamente e il tuo bambino, sarebbe stato meglio senza di te. E lo hanno fatto alimentando le tue debolezze, fornendoti la droga e l'alcool con cui potevano controllarti.

So che sicuramente hai sbagliato nella vita, commettendo errori più o meno gravi anche con le persone a cui volevi più bene, ma eri malato, Liam. Non eri rotto, eri malato e meritavi di essere curato. Meritavi una sincera e seria possibilità di uscirne e fare ammenda dei tuoi sbagli, qualunque siano stati, tornando a fare parte della vita delle persone che ti hanno sempre amato. Meritavi la possibilità di riabbracciare la tua famiglia e i tuoi ragazzi e di dare altri baci al tuo bambino.

Ti hanno fornito corda e sgabello e poi hanno aizzato il popolo dei social a dirti di ucciderti.

Non ho mai vissuto quello che hai vissuto tu, né conosco di persona qualcuno che abbia sofferto della tua stessa malattia. Non ti biasimo per aver cercato la via più facile, la colpa non è tua. Ci hai provato a dirci come stavi e a chiederci aiuto, hai gridato forte con tutto il cuore, e vorrei che fosse bastato.

Dovunque tu sia, spero che troverai la pace e la serenità che quaggiù ti era stata rubata. Non perdonarli, Liam, perché non lo meritano.

Però, se puoi, veglia su chi è rimasto quaggiù e ti piangerà per sempre.

Vorrei aver potuto fare di più per te e, anche se so che non ero nella posizione per farlo, è un rimpianto che mi accompagnerà a lungo.

Riposa in pace 🤍

- Sara -

(A letter to those who voted or voted third party)

Ive had plenty of time to think about the weaponized words you all have used against us. “I don’t think you’re who I thought you were” and “you’re misunderstanding me” no, I hear you loud and clear. What you’re not doing is listening to us.

A third party or non-vote is the same as giving a vote to someone who wears genocide as a shiny pin on his suit. At least maybe with Kamala, we could save some unfortunate victims of assault, rape, incest. We could’ve protected our own trans kids, now we are going to fight a genocide of our own. We are going to have to fight and riot because someone got killed for “walking while black” under this administration.

I beg of you to organize. That’s an important thing to do while the world is going to crash and burn, because it already is, and nobody is going to be happy with either party. We clearly did not do critical thinking when it came to our own issues. I’m specifically looking at my third party and non voters here, whatever your reason may be from “i don’t like either” to “children are dying overseas” well, now our mothers and trans children are dying here. what have we solved. apart from enacting horrible tariffs the likes of the economy will have never felt since the great depression, and giving tax cuts to the billionaires to make the working class even poorer than the ruling class, which doesn’t sound like we are solving anything at all. it doesn’t sound anything like the reform we need, the revolution we need, right?

ah yes, because your activism for children overseas while you can’t be an advocate for your mother, or her mother, or her mother, or her mother, while you can’t be an advocate for yourself, while these women and kids are getting raped and assaulted you thought a non vote meant more than a impending genocide on POC and trans people and control over women in our own damn country wasn’t as important as kids in gaza. “if it means i don’t have to have access to gender affirming care or hormones, ill live.” well im very glad you’re privileged enough to live. i’m extremely glad you will never feel some of the pain trans kids feel who took their lives because they got beat so bad at school, or their parents left them homeless.

Nex Benedict, you were a child who should’ve been able to feel safe at school.

Kids should feel safe in our schools. 513 mass shootings and counting in 2024 alone, kids doing lockdown drills monthly and posting video of police stampeding their school complexes wasn’t enough for even a vote for basic mental health issues and addiction issues? Was issue 12 nothing to somebody who is almost a year sober? Who has almost died 2 fucking times in the span of a year because of drugs? Is abolishing the department of education really what we needed here, to put behind kids like me who had IEPs and those with autism, adhd, and other mental disorders and even physical disorders from receiving a proper education?

Where was your voice while protesting the genocide in gaza when the 20 kids in the Sandy Hook Elementary School shooting should’ve been able to vote yesterday. Where is your support for “March for Our Lives?”

Where was your voice when black men and women are being subjected to some of the worst systemic racism in modern times? “Kamala jailed thousands of black people for weed charges” and if you look at what’s law right now, she gave 95% of them a slap on the fucking wrist if you actually did your research. Doing her job, and then trying to do a job for the people where weed could be legalized and charges could be expunged, which affects majority black people. This issue hits close to me. Because you want to paint someone out to be an absolute monster, which there is some merit to, but you neglect to see that the other monster wants nothing to do with the community and won’t give an inkling of hope to give people a safe way to make community. It’s like a damn pitbull at the shelter. Stay in the crate and potentially get adopted someday, or get euthanized.

Tamir Rice, you should still be breathing, you should still be alive.

We should organize regardless of who was elected but I guarantee you now there are going to be repercussions the climate, people, and world have never known with an outcome like this.

With major climatologists begging you to vote for somebody who isn’t going to immediately continue burning fossil fuels and continue the meat industry, to continue doing the things we are doing now and you still let a non vote out of “making a message” happen when the most crucial part of our climate journey is NOW. Because of the political divisiveness in our country and unwillingness to vote for somebody that’s “less bad” than the fascists, we are going to make absolutely no progress. You really think rioting under Trump is going to work? It may not work either under Kamala, but damn it was sure a fucking shot if it meant that my grandpa still had access to healthcare while he steadily declined.

This isn’t about parties for me. This is about my grandpa, who drank from colored water fountains and couldn’t enter certain stores because he was too dark. Or when he was told he would never amount to anything in life and went to college all while having two kids and three jobs.

This is about my grandpa who we fought long and hard to get the ACA for his parkinson’s to work out with the VA to make sure his succumbing to death was as painless and humane as possible.

This is about my grandpa who always said to “love your neighbor no matter how much they hate your skin color” because we have too much fucking infighting to make an actual revolution work.

This is about my grandpa and his family who had their fucking land taken away in a broken ass system who even then knew better than to vote for a fascist fool. This is about the millions of undocumented immigrants who are now at an even heightened risk of deportation. this is about my teenage best friend, D. R, who’s mom is living in a trailer park with 3 kids and can’t get citizenship because they might deport her. And leave her DACA children and US citizen born children at the hands of child protective services.

The one happy interview in my life was done a few years ago by Guy Flatley of the New York Times—Could you send me a small sample—so I’ll know what to expect—I don’t know anyone anymore except David Brinkley, etc Sincerely - Jean Arthur 26398 Ocean View Caramel, Calif-

First off, I am so sorry I'm late getting to this. Second of all, I'm so sorry for your loss. I hope this letter helps!