I hope dearly that you never read this

To those I've known and have known me,

I am but a vile creature hidden beside rocks and shown by the trees. I've blinded myself only to be haunted by your village in an attempt to flee it. I will not beg forgiveness; something that I do not deserve. But I beg you to never lay your eyes on these words.

I am a shameful creature. I've worn the skin of those who preceded you and acted anew. I am deceitful in my thoughts and actions. Scorn me; I know what I've done in my vile desperation. It follows me in my sighless existence. I am haunted. 

I am sick. Avert your eyes; I am a feeble thing. Masticate this thing I am from what I puppeted. Remember it well, as I do you, for I am an ugly thing. It wasn't. I wasn't. Despite the flies.

How I wanted to wish you well. I whispered my good intentions so fervently. My clasped hands and misty brow meant nothing to the feeling that stayed firm in my chest next to my growing fear that pumps blood through my system.

My hope for your sorrow. I wish I wished you well. I do. But my hope for your failure was always there as I prayed for your future and present. I wanted your failure, our depression.

Did you ever notice how I plotted? Could you hear the filth in my mind when I smiled at you?

I hoped for your immune system to fail you. But you got better, and I was afraid. I had removed borrowed ribs from my cage for you. 5 through 7. I could've died with you there. I would have if you told me to, once you promised to stay there till your body failed you too. You didn't notice my concave.

You were better, and I had nothing but disease for you. I know the words we once passed were products of desperation; it was more than enough. Those words that didn't comfort. 

I wanted desperately to drag you from your health. Our sickness was ours, yet the health was yours alone? Even now, I hope for wounds so that I can fester once more. So that you and I may be, once again, sick. Together.

I am sorry that I'm not sorry. So I hope dearly, despite the thing next to my fear, that you never read this.

- You're truly.