Hi Joseph.

This is a letter to you that I thought about hand-writing, but then I realized that writing things by hand is too much effort and I'm probably never going to give this to you and I don't really want my parents stumbling across it.

I love you so, so much. Just so you know.

Right now I'm thinking about how terrible I am for you. For anyone. I don't think my depression is going to get better. I'm afraid it's just a part of me. I don't want to live with this forever, but I don't know if I have a choice.

And it means that you or anyone I would ever be with puts up with so much. I text you at least once a week needing you because I'm feeling lonely or suicidal or like I want to self-harm. And you always have to comfort me. And I don't think you think it's a burden anymore--I don't know if you do--but I feel like you'd be better off without it.

I've been reading suicide notes and thinking about what I would write to you in one. You recently said that being with me is worth any pain. But sometimes I wonder if it's justifiable for you to have to put up with so much because of me. I don't know what I do for you. I just think you shouldn't have to deal with this my whole life, however long that may be.

I think I'd want you to know how much I love you, and how special you are. I know  you don't see it in yourself, but you are so, so special. I know I'm biased, but you're one of the most amazing people I've ever met.

I hope if anything ever happens to me you'll know it's not your fault. My life would suck so much more without you.

I think you're so cute. How you look when you're sleeping, with a slight little frown and your mouth open just a little bit. When you dance to that one song I hated. When you have that look on your face that means you're focusing really hard.

You're funny even when you're doing stupid stuff, like eating things that are of questionable sanitation. But I don't regret not letting you eat that chicken.

I kinda wish I could hold you and play with you and be with you every day for the rest of my life. And you kinda wish that about me, which is cool. I know it won't really happen though. Life isn't kind enough to allow that to happen. Something will go wrong, whether we end up moving to different places, or you just get tired of me. But I'm so grateful for the time we've had.

Do you think if I died you'd come back and read my blog, like you did before? Would you leave comments I'd never be able to read? I think that's the only thing I'd be disappointed about. Not being able to read those comments. Dead people can't be disappointed, but I'd be real disappointed in the moments before. Maybe I'll keep staying alive so I can read your dumb comments for a little while longer.

Letters to Pogverse Joe: 2

Hi Pogverse Joe.

Tonight, I'm thinking about you. I'm also thinking about Pogverse Rachel. I was planning on going through old messages today, because I like to visit you when Proper Joe isn't with me. I was thinking about who we were back then and where the world was and if we could imagine any of it happening now.

We used to communicate for hours on Facebook like all the time. Now we talk sometimes about politics, but because we don't talk as much, I wonder what Pogverse Us would say about what's going on in the world right now.
I don't think Pogverse Us even imagined the nation could get like this. We were blessed. We had our boy Obama protecting us. I remember how proud I was to be able to first witness Obama become president, and then to be able to vote for him in the 2012 election. I will always be very happy that he was the first president I voted for.
You pretend to love Obama as much as I love Obama, but you don't. YOU JUST DON'T. You will never understand what he and I have.

I'm thinking I might write to you more. Just whenever I'm thinking about you. I love you, you know? I love Proper Joe and Pogverse Joe. You might be a little easier to talk to. I think Pogverse Rachel and Joe loved each other exactly the same amount. And that was a cool thing.

Can I tell you something I'm too scared to tell Proper Joe? (Of course I can, I'm not really talking to you, just thinking about you.)

The thing I'm too scared to tell him is that I'm in love with him. I was in love with you, too, Pogverse Joe, and we both knew it but I couldn't say it. It didn't need to be said, then. Maybe I've been in love with you since that night when we ran around together on top of the Red Cedar. That might've been the moment I fell in love with you.

Anyway, I wish Proper Joe felt the same way that you felt about me, Pogverse Joe. Then the end of the year wouldn't be so scary. I think if he still felt that way about me, it might maybe be okay if I followed him wherever he ends up. I think he might maybe be okay with that. Maybe it'd still have terrified the shit out of you, Pogverse Joe, but maybe it would've made you happy.

Proper Joe just told me that you guys didn't vote for Obama. AND YOU PRETENDED TO LOVE HIM LIKE I DID. LIES! LIES AND DECEIT.

I want to mention yesterday, because it was a good moment and I want to be able to look back on it whenever I read this. We had just got done having the best sex we'd ever had (congratulations Pogverse Joe, you do eventually lose your virginity), and then after some cuddles and chats Proper Joe fell asleep next to me. And man, you're beautiful. You're so, so beautiful. People should look ugly and stupid when they're asleep, that's just the rules, but you just looked beautiful. And so cute. I wanted to save that moment, and how I felt in that moment, forever. I wish I could have that moment over and over again for forever. But I know we're a fleeting thing, you and I. Because you'll never love me again like you did then. You'll never love me back as much as I love you now. It's okay. I'm glad you're giving me the time you're giving me. I haven't felt so in love with someone in a long time. So thank you. I love my Joe so much. :)

A Letter To You

This is a letter to you, but it's mostly a letter to old you, which is why I told you not to read it. I'm hoping that you listen, and that if you ever do read it, it will be because the time is right for you to read it. (If it's within a month after you told me you wouldn't, GO AWAY.) Mostly, I just have to get these thoughts out somewhere they won't just be saved in a hard drive.

I miss you. I made the mistake of reading our old conversations and I want to reach back in time and tell you, I miss you. Tell you that I love you. Tell you that I made the wrong choice every time I made the choice that wasn't you, and tell you that by the time I was ready to make the choice of you, it wasn't something you wanted anymore. I don't know if that you, my you, would even believe me. He was so convinced that his feelings would never fade. He was scared, but he was happy. But he didn't know me--not all of me. He didn't know that I would ruin it all beyond repair, in the end.

At one point, I told you, "I'm sorry, but I'm never going to make the choice that's right. I'm going to make the choice that's easy." The choice that's comfortable.      I wish I could go back and kick my old self in the shin really hard, because I regret that choice so much.

I think maybe, you used to think of me when you listened to Flashlight. Well, I think of you when I listen to Tattooed Tears, and I have for a long time, since the last time we had feelings for each other in July of 2015. I think of you when I hear the line, "I'm gonna have to learn, that this love will never be convenient."

The you I have now, who is a good you, but not as good as the old you, gives lots of conditionals about hanging out. Seems to view it as a chore more than something to be excited about. Can't talk to me about emotional shit, and claims it's just because he doesn't feel things that deeply or have anything to say about things. The you I have now doesn't want to listen to my stupid stories, doesn't laugh at my stupid jokes, doesn't perform random acts of kindness that are simple but just happen to be perfect for me.

The you I miss more than I can describe, the you I still love--that you got anxious when we missed hanging out. That you talked to me extensively about anything and everything. Always more than a short word or sentence in response. That you read my entire blog, watched a ridiculous amount of videos that were just me derping around with high school and freshman year friends, that you cherished every new detail. That you left an envelope with three pogs and a fork in my mailbox, and bought me a styrofoam head for my birthday.

I've been having those moments lately of "How the hell did we go from there to here?" (How did I get here? Where the hell am I?) I wish I could pinpoint the exact moment where things became beyond repair, so that I could go back and fix it. So that maybe I could still have old you with me. But I... I really fucked things up, didn't I? It's not like I can blame you for changing. I'm shocked you're even still my best friend.

There are so many reasons why I thought we couldn't work, but I think all of our problems stemmed from doubting each other's love. You thought I didn't care about you, and I thought you didn't care about me, and somewhere along the line, we stopped trusting each other fully and completely and recklessly. And when that trust was lost, everything was sort of lost. But I think if that love was there, everything would sort of fall into place. It could be as easy as breathing, like it was meant to be so long ago. Like it would have been if I met you first. Of course, though, "if that love was there" is that huge, impossible conditional.

Hey. I know you're not the same you now, and I know I can't get that old you back. So don't worry. And I love you. You're my best friend. But I know it's not like that with us.
But I just, I've been feeling a lot of things for that you that I used to know. And I wanted to tell him I miss him. And I love him so, so much. I wanted to tell him goodbye.

I'm going to be okay. Someday, I'm going to find someone who loves me as much as you used to. Someday, I'm going to find someone who doesn't make me question my self-worth. Maybe someday, I can really find someone who values me as much as I value them, and continues to do that for the rest of our lives. That's my hope for the future. For now, being alone is good. I get better at it all the time. I'm going to be okay. And thank you.

Depression is waking up every day not knowing what your day is going to be like. Will I be strong today, or will my depression be strong today?

Depression is not wanting to wake up at all.

Depression is constantly feeling like your heart is being crushed and wishing you knew why.

Depression is focusing on the negatives--in yourself, in your life, in the people around you.

Depression is blaming yourself for everything negative but not giving yourself credit for anything good.

Depression is your self-image being based on how much better off everyone would be if you didn't exist.

Depression is constantly battling the impulse to make not existing a reality.

Depression is why get excited about anything when everything is pointless?

Depression is life in grayscale.

Depression is "am I emoting today or does everyone think I seem like a bitch because I can't make myself feel the things I should?"

Depression is thinking "When was the last time I was happy?" and not being able to remember.

Depression is wondering why.

Why is this happening?
Why am I like this?
Why do I feel this way?
Why do I keep surviving?
Why am I crying?
Why can't I cry?
Why can't I make it stop?

Depression is hard.

Depression sucks.

This. So true.

Joe Thundergriff (aka Joseph Paddy o'Paddy) is a super-mega-ultra bitch monster 

"I am a fickle person, and just for that reason I take marriage seriously."