Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
300 Letters - 37. Letter 36
02.12.2015
Dear C,
I heard from my mum today and she told me that you are going through another chemo. And it’s a very strong one.
Baby… I am so sorry.
I can only imagine how weak you must be. If I could only take some of this suffering from you – I would in a heartbeat. It breaks my heart knowing how much you are suffering there. It really does. If I understood my mum correctly, you should be having your bone marrow transplant too – at the same time. So that is a great news, isn’t it? I mean we both know it has to happen and they must have found a match for you baby. You’re going thru so much now and I cannot be there with you and for you. It’s killing me.
Baby be strong, no matter what – never give up. Never! You hear me? You stay strong.
This whole fucking nightmare will be soon over for you and you will be healthy and happy again. I promise you.
My mum told me something else too. She said that you asked about me. I know it’s a lie, I know you don’t care about me, but I guess my mum just wanted to make me feel better. I broke down in tears on the phone when she told me you were going thru such strong chemo again. So she must have come up with something to cheer me up a little I guess. The fact is that you must be forgetting about me slowly nowadays – and it’s ok. Focus on your recovery.
But you know what? If you really did ask about me… My heart melted. That’s all I can say. Even though I fool myself thinking that you did – it brings joy to my heart.
Anyway, my art classes are going well. It’s funny how I call it ‘classes’. They don’t teach us there anything. We just get art tools and we do what we are pleased to do. There are certain things we are not allowed to draw or paint: nudity, religious symbols and football team logos. Funny, isn’t it? Well none of these subjects are of any interest to me – so I don’t really complaint, like others do. I am working on a castle now. This time I am doing it using coloured pencils only. No paints this time. It’s fun. Obviously I am doing it my way and I am nearly done. The castle is situated on top of some hills which in my world are full of colours. I like my colours.
I like the magic of art. You can create the world that is only yours and it can look the way you want it to be.
It’s freedom.
That’s what it is.
Freedom.
And even here – in prison – no one can lock my imagination and my mind away. Yes, my body is in their possession, yes it is in chains, but not my spirit.
Maria, my art tutor is loving the castle. She became a bit of a fan of my drawings and paintings. She says that my use of colours is very different to anything she has seen so far. Not sure if she’s saying the truth or she’s just being nice to me. But I feel like if I had met her in a normal world we would have been good friends.
My English classes are so boring. You have no idea. I am not learning absolutely anything. The teacher – well, word teacher is a bit of an overstatement here – she acts like she does not want to be here at all. The rest of the guys in my group are so dumb – and I am trying to be really polite here. But at least I am away from my cell.
I should complete English course on December 21st, then I have no idea what will I do next. I finish art classes on the 29th of January. Maybe I will sign up to music and business classes. Music is not singing – you know babes I’m not Mariah Carey. It’s about creating computer generated music using Cubase software. I think I can try this.
I met with a well-being person today and Carrie told me she put me on a waiting list for a weight loss programme. I hope I will be able to do it. I am a bit concerned – I am not the fittest of them all.
It’s almost 10pm now baby and it’s freezing here – as usual. And as I have already lost a bit of weight – my body doesn’t generate that much heat as it used to. I remember how you used to call me your personal heater – each time we laid down in bed.
My love, look after yourself there.
I love you.
Forever Yours,
Sebastian
- 2
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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