Dear Jun,

It’s snowing today while I write this. And alright, who really cares about that?

Ugh, I’m not used to writing letters. What’s the point of them, in this day and age? I considered email first, but then I thought about how impersonal it was. Sure, there’s no way you could lose it that way, but I realized I’d rather risk this paper getting misplaced than send you something so impersonal. Plus, it makes me feel less like a ghost. Like I actually existed or something.

I’ve been told that my handwriting is very nice, but I have a lot to write, so please forgive me if things get to be illegible the longer you read. Get ready cause I have a lot of things to say, especially to Luca.

It's why I'm writing any of these at all. I have so much to say still, so much that I don't think I could be understood without doing this. I have a favor to ask of you and it's something you've already agreed to. 

I need you to be my mouthpiece, like you promised me you would be a while back. And knowing you, you probably don’t remember, but I’ll jog your memory.

It happened last year. You remember when I had that scare? You know, the night with the blood in my vomit? The night after you graduated? Yeaaah, fun times! It happened then. In perfect dramatic fashion for the both of us, I realized last year that death was imminent. We both cried together and you held me and I held you, and I told you I was scared. Not to die (though I totally am), it was something more.

More than being afraid to die, I was terrified of what would happen afterwards, when I'm gone. That I’d die and it’d completely ruin my family, even more than it’s already been ruined. I’m talking total demolition of a household, and I’d become part of their unspoken, haunted backstory that they'd never recover from. Cue shudder.

This is probably really narcissistic to say, but I’m kind of the glue that holds my family together. Not intentionally, but it just sort of happened. When you’re the sick kid who everyone is constantly worried about and has to cater to, the whole family tends to revolve around you and your needs. My dad is a nut about me. I’m his clear favorite and he always makes time for me, no matter how busy his work schedule is or what my brothers are doing, and Rico spends more time with me than any of his friends at school, so there’s no wonder which sibling he prefers there.

Then, there’s Luca. My very elusive, “secret” twin.

Let me be a little dramatic.

If you’re reading this, it means I’ve died. Which definitely sucks. 

But there's something that sucks more—at least as far as how I see it. It answers some questions for you, but it worries me more than anything else. Put simply, Luca is nosocomephobic. It's bad. He's petrified of visiting hospitals, and has been ever since the trauma he went through as a kid.

(It feels strange to write that out, like I’m telling someone else’s secret. Which I am. Ugh. Please don’t make me regret telling you, Jun).

Now, I don’t think he even remembers himself, to be honest, but my dad suspects that to be the case anyway, and it’s the only thing that makes sense.

See, Luca was with our dad when our mom died. It was a car accident, a gruesome one—you’ve heard the details before. Anyway, Luca saw the body and the whole thing has pretty much sworn him off hospitals. He gets panic attacks going into them and flips out if he stays too long. Back when we were little and I was first diagnosed, he used to make an effort of coming with, but that was pretty much put a stop to when it became clear he couldn’t handle it. No one really knew how to handle it then, and no one really knows how to handle it now.

I can hear you wondering, what about his own doctor visits? Well, there’s a reason our dads are on a first name basis! Your dad hooked my dad up with a doctor that would make home visits, and Luca promptly became a health nut germaphobe to bade off any doctor visits that weren’t absolutely necessary.

So, there, the answer to your burgeoning question that you’ve been wondering for years. I bet you thought Luca hated me or something, but no. We have a perfectly amicable relationship, at least when I’m at home and don’t have to be away on extended hospital stays. I should mention that we don’t have any contact when I’m away from home though.

Which is the crux of the problem, you see.

When I die, my entire family will fall apart. My father will probably return to drinking, I don’t even want to think of what Rico will go through, and Luca... I consider Luca to be the weakest link. At least from how I see it, my dad and Rico will be able to cry and talk about it. Luca won’t. He represses everything and just wills himself forgets about it. But things like me dying, you can’t really forget about that.

Do you see what I’m trying to get at? I need your help, Jun. And I’m sorry, I am. That I’m laying all of this on your hands when you’ve never even met him. I just don’t know what else to do. There’s no one else I trust more than you.

Inside the other letters are a list of all the things I wanted to say to my brother, but never got the chance to say. I wish I were braver. I wish I could say them myself. But I don’t think I’ll ever get the chance. Life just doesn’t work the way you want it to. It isn’t like the movies where every scene has a time and place, a reason for happening. And people aren’t actors that follow a script, so not everyone is on the same page about the direction the story has to take to get to the happy ending. I think there’s something beautiful about that, though the realistic part of me just thinks it sucks.

Life is about opportunities, missed or taken, and sometimes life doesn’t give you the opportunities you want or need at all. Basically, life is what everyone calls it, unfair. To everyone. The optimistic you will just say that’s what makes it interesting, and makes what you do have, special and important. I agree, but all the same, I still wish I could get out of this hospital bed and do what I’m asking you, myself.

When you realize that any minute you could die, you start to think about all the things you’ll never get to do. That’s when I get the most afraid of death, I think. Life going on without me scares me, but, Jun, I rest easier at night when I think about you helping Luca. It’s turned into a repetitive daydream of mine that you’ll succeed where no one else has been able to and get him to open up, make him stronger. It’s the thought that keeps me going when the pain is the worst and I’m most afraid.

I often call you my diary, Jun, which is probably why it’s been much easier to write this letter than I thought it would be. But this time is different. I’ll be considering you an extension of myself. Or, at least an extension of my will. The last ripples that I’ll be able to make on earth.

Mission delivered, Jun, got that?

(P.S. I hope you’ve done my first letter justice and have read it all out loud with much dramatic emphasis at all the proper points. But really, you’re probably just bawling like a baby, which I guess I can forgive you for. Your best friend just died and all, and she’s kind of talking to you beyond the grave while not really doing that because she wasn’t dead when she wrote this, and wow, I really need to stop with the gallows humor. It’s starting to make people uncomfortable.)

All that said, I love you so fucking much, and in advance, thank you. You’ve always been too good to me. I’ll be watching from Heaven and I’ll greet you when you get here with lots of hugs and kisses.

Probably.

- Ciana

(Further Mission Instructions: Open the second letter as soon as you’ve established contact and can have a somewhat decent conversation without him ignoring you, because he’ll do that. You’re gonna have to be a bit resilient, just a head’s up. I have faith in you!)