InsaneJournal

Dear Cory -

You probably won't get this until after, you know. But that's ok. I just needed to write it, and you don't even have to read it if you don't want to, really. (Although that would be kind of asshole-y of you, not that you're not a dick, but prove me wrong for once, will you?)

Anyway, might as well start before I start rambling. We both know that never leads anywhere good. I'm sitting in a café here in Moscow and I just—well, I hadn't even been planning on writing this. Post mortem letters, I mean, how cliché is that? I feel like I should be sitting in a nook of some Elizabethan library, while the sun sets on my letter and it cuts to you reading it full of ~emotion~ and shit. I don't know, something like that. Point is, there are some things I need to say to you, and seeing as I couldn't muster up the balls to say them to your face, a letter will just have to do.

I hope you're happy, whatever you're doing now. I mean that, and not in a bitter ex-girlfriend kind of way. I really do hope you're happy, even if it's just banging some milf you found out by the pool (although I guess I'd be guaranteed of your happiness if that were the case). You're my best friend in the world, even when you're gallivanting off across Europe, or being a douchebag, or forgetting that Sven does, in fact, talk. His name is Ivan, by the way, not Sven. Ivan Gregorovitch Petrov. A mouthful, huh? I don't know why he keeps answering to Sven. What was I saying? It doesn't matter. Just try not to be too much a dick to people now that I'm not around, all right? With John and Lucy there to keep tempting you, I have no idea how you'll manage, but call it a last favor to me. I don't know if Tales can come back to haunt, but you can bet your ass I'll be there to bother you if start being too big an asshole. And really, really don't just get angry at people because I'm gone. What kind of legacy would that be? Leaving people all hurting and angry in my wake. I mean, you'll get over it eventually; might as well start sooner rather than later, right?

Now here comes the confession: I've always had a little bit of a thing for you, you were right. I guess it's only natural. We've been best friends for so long, it just kind of follows one of us would get those little romantic tingles. Figures it was me, though; it's almost always the girl. But I don't know—I could be wrong. You ever felt that swooping drop in your stomach when we're on the couch and you've got your hand in my hair? Nah—that's not your style. And it was only one swoop anyway; don't get cocky. You were too busy looking up every other skirt in Vegas to notice me like that beyond banter anyway. Which is fine, really. I probably would have turned you down if you'd ever asked me out. You're too tall, for one, and you talk too much, for another. The whole dying would have put a damper on things, too. Did you know Cal was my first boyfriend in five years? Not the first guy I'd slept with (oh my God, I would have died), but. I don't know. I guess everything just felt less final when he was around, less...short term? But you don't care about that. I'm rattling.

I miss you already, babe, and I'm not even gone. I can't think what it'll be like when I do go. Do you ever wonder what it'll be like, after we die? Whether we get to keep looking on and watching, or if we're dead and that's it? I mean, I know our tales get reincarnated, but what about us? It'd be nice to be able to just watch over all you guys. God knows you can barely take care of yourselves. And to, you know. Just get to see everyone. I'm getting maudlin and sentimental. Since when have I been a weepy after-school special mess? This never would have happened if I'd stayed in Las Vegas. —Then again, I'd likely be attached to tubes and machines if I hadn't gone, so.

I'm not sure what else to say, really. I've always been bad with letters, and if I write too much more I'll start crying again, and that'll be that. I love you, Cory. I think you should know, if you don't already. Try not to let it go to your head, though. I know I'm pretty fucking awesome, but really. Take care of yourself. You'll be the first person I haunt, if I get to come back.

Your best friend,
Cate.