Are you a ghost? Are you a spirit? Are you a folk? I simply must know. I am just a regular ‘ol folk, but I would make a great ghost. I would love to haunt people. I bet nothing bad happens to ghosts, except for the dying part that makes you a ghost… I wonder if ghosts can just be born as ghosts. I need to ask someone about that.
Anyways. Hey ghost/spirit/folk, have you ever felt like screaming into the void until your voice gives out? That’s how I’m feeling right now. I have had an absolutelyTERRIBLEday. The worst day I have ever had. Or at least the second worst day. It’s hard to rank shitty days, you know.
I’m worried that my life might be ruined. I know what you’re thinking, “This person is so whiny and dramatic!” well, whoever you are, you might be right, but you must understand. My entire life has been destroyed today, and I don’t know what I’m going to do.
Thank you for reading, mysterious mailbox spirit. (if you are actually reading and this letter isn’t just going into the abyss…)
P.S. Zero alcohol went into the writing of this letter, by the way. None. Not a drop. Not even a few sips.
P.P.S. I wonder if anyone is actually going to read this.
I couldn’t read the signature at the bottom–the sender was a complete mystery.
Gods be damned. Well, now Ihadto respond. This was too intriguing to pass up.
I pulled out my stack of parchment and my favorite ink and quill and set the letter aside so I could send a response of my own.
What was there to lose? Everything was already a mess anyways.
Isat and stared at the paper for what felt like hours before I could come up with any sort of response.
I wasn’t the poetic type.
This is so stupid. I’m a grown man, grown men don’t write letters to emotional strangers.
Ultimately, I decided that it didn’t matter, since I was still somewhat convinced that this was all some elaborate prank.
But what if it wasn’t a prank?
Eh, it was probably a prank.
Hello, Stranger.
I received your letter. Though I’m not sure when you wrote it, or who it was intended for, it has made its way into my hands.
I have many questions, but I’ll save my ink for now.
I am not a ghost, nor am I a spirit. I am a regular folk, as you have said. I have never died, nor have I been to the afterlife. And I do not reside within any mailbox.
I am sorry about your day. If it helps, you are not alone. I have had days like that. And I assure you, it will pass. The lows don’t last forever. You will rise again. Just get up tomorrow and keep going.
And do the same thing the next day.
Best,
Another Stranger
P.S. Alcohol, you say? Was it ale? Golden ale is my favorite.
I felt like an absolute idiot as I stared at the two letters in my hands. I was torn. Part of me wanted to crumple them both up, chuck them in the trash, and then act like this whole thing never happened. I was strangely embarrassed at having been roped into this odd predicament.
Another part of me was curious.
I sat for long minutes, my mind battling with itself.
Ultimately, the curiosity won out.
What do I have to lose?
