Still me. And I’m still alive. The pain has gone worse, it’s eating my body so completely, but I’m still alive. And writing.
I didn’t burn this last letter. Someone else can do this for me. If you think that there’s nothing to read. I really don’t care. I can as well talk to a piece of paper.
I’ve been waiting, you know. For some reason I still hope that you’ll come here and sit here with me. You wouldn’t have to say anything. I love the silence, because that’s what I have left.
You never had to say anything. We just sat, even when Dyanno and Kariel had gone already. We were silent, but we had each other.
That was the way I scared you away. One dawn I just kissed you, like you had kissed me once. And then I told you that I was going to die. I didn’t say anything about the pain. I didn’t need to. You finally understood why I gasped so often and what spark was in my eyes. You understood all that. Dyanno and Kariel never did, they just left me.
But then you went away. I understood that I had frightened you enourmously, but I hoped that you’d come back.
You never did. That still hurts. I had hoped that you’d understand. And you were just afraid, as everybody else. I never had an explanation for this illness. I just said that I was dying and  that was enough for you all. I should be sorry, but actually I’m not.
This was my life and my way of leaving. Now I’m here in a dark room, more dying than ever but I’m certainly not passing away right now. I am writing.
Oh God, what’s the use? You’ll never read these things, I guess.
Noone ever will and I shall be only another dead someone.
I guess I’m morbid. Well, I’m supposed to be, or not? I am dying, if you didn’t notice it yet.
I miss you, Gheys. I will never miss noone but you, I think. You mattered.
Oh well. Farewell. I just try to die again.
Farewell.