Dear Yuki-Onna,
You’re obviously getting two letters back to back, because the moment I sent the previous one, I sat down and wrote another.
Clingy much? Probably. But I blame you for that.
You’re the only person I can’t kick out of my conscious no matter how hard I try to. It’s that toxicity, I swear. You make it addictive in a strange type of way.
But that’s not why I’m writing again.
It’s your name.
Not Naomi, but Yuki-Onna. You know, I had a daydream just a while ago and in it, Yuki-Onna came through my window.
She was pale as the snow and just as cold. Her lips were like a red rosebud and her huge brown eyes held no light.
It was sad and intriguing at the same time.
You know when a disaster is happening but you realize there’s nothing you can do about it so you just stand there and watch?
That’s what I did with Yuki-Onna. I just remained still and observed her.
Even when she stretched out her ghostly hands and went for my fucking liver. Even when I felt the frost of her touch deep into my goddamn bones.
I only watched.
Do you know why? Because deep in my mind, she was you.
And somewhere in my head, you came for payback over all the shit I told you. I mean, is there a better cause of death than revenge?
There probably is. Just don’t tell me.
I didn’t die, obviously, it was all in my head, but when I came to, my heart was beating so fast I thought it’d stop. So I’m writing you this letter so you know I’m alive.
Not that you care.
Or maybe you do.
After all, you do love me in one way or another or you would’ve stopped talking to me by now.
I guess you’re that lonely to think of me as a friend, but then again, if you didn’t have me, there would be no one in your life to beat hard truths into your skull.
If you didn’t have me, you’d drown in your delusions so deep, you wouldn’t even realize when or how to stop.
Not that you do right now.
But at least you know my opinion of your life—that sucks, by the way—but then again, my own life sucks, too.
Isn’t that the beauty of it all, Naomi?
Both our lives suck but we’re still here anyway. We still go to the post office and send letters.
You still hold on to the hope that I’m the only friend you have and I still like to imagine you as my own Yuki-Onna.
Cold, beautiful, and will one day fucking kill me.
But here’s a secret. If you’ll be my cause of death, I don’t really mind it.
After all, don’t they say find something toxic and let it kill you?
Well, that’s not exactly the line, but in our case, it counts.
Be safe. Or not. As long as you reply.
And pray that I don’t have any other daydreams about Yuki-Onna or I will keep bugging you until you actually show up at my window.
And then I might never let you go.
Akira
