Another year, another simp.

Another writer's block, another random shit (in Engrisk)

Happy new year you all silly kittens. Slay 💅

Warning: mention of depression and suicidal thoughts

...

Very random and inarticulate letter I wrote to you because I'm a mess when it comes to you, and you're already a mess, for which I love you.

Brett,

I don't know why I am writing to you this year. Maybe it's because this year it's a rabbit, which is cute, and somewhere else, in Vietnam or so I've heard, it's a cat, which is even cuter. Both of them remind me of you.

Don't be smug. What I mean is you're annoying, silly, and always jumping like a bunny in heat. But you're also enigmatic, peculiar, unexpectedly aggressive and suddenly so needy like a cat (in heat).

And you know what, Brett, whatever breed you are, you're always so hard to tame. More often than not, you're acting no less than a toddler with all the shit you buy, the unhealthy things you consume, and the hours you spend practising without drinking, eating, or even sleeping. How lucky I am, for I was given not a big bro but a big baby who tends not to know how to take care of himself, and I have to be that caretaker even though I myself am shitty at it too.

The more I get to know you, the more horrifying facts and habits of yours I have to endure. Don't you dare deny it when I have to take away your phone at night just because you'll never get your hands off it until three bloody AM. Don't you dare deny it when I have to wrestle with you to stop you from purchasing another obviously unnecessary piece of shit because you're not gonna use it, and it'll end up at the landfill very very soon. AND wait until those people get into your head and walk around it for a while, they must be terrified as heck. Your mind, dark, twisted, and unfathomable, is always driving me crazy. I can't wrap my mind around that time when you were depressed, and I was depressed too, and we were two cripplingly depressed men who really should see a therapist, and you just told me why don't we say goodbye to this world and just end our lives together. Whoever says you're cute, Brett? You're such a piece of work that is out of this world, and it's not a compliment, okay? You're sick, man. But I guess that sane had left me since the day I accepted to be your whatever-I-mean-to-you because right after that, I said okay and threw myself to you and even asked you why don't we at least kiss or something before we ended everything because I didn't get to kiss you properly and I may end up so rueful to the next life.

And you laughed. You laughed, and then I realised what had kept me on Earth for this long. You laughed, and I felt like my world had lit up, and everything was so fucking dazzling, so fucking enchanting, that I didn't want to leave it at all in that very moment. And you never stop being the git you are, so annoying but oh God forbid so endearing. You kissed me, and everything seemed less important at that moment. I didn't want to fucking die and never have this ever again. I just wanted to kiss you forever, and ever and ever and ever. And then not say goodbye. What's the point of saying goodbye when I can't leave you? What if hell decided to split us up when we arrived, I would go to hell, and you would go to heaven even though you're such an evil shit. But I know everyone sees you as an innocent angel, which you're not and will never be, and sometimes your appearance gives up a false impression, so I give you that title, angel. And I'd be down to hell because that's how it should be. Because I've sold myself to the devil, baby.

(But I wouldn't be so worried about that. Soon heaven would see your crystal clear and dump you back to me haha.)

I don't even know how to deal with your shit sometimes. I hate to admit it, but I have to keep you in case no one can ever care for you properly. Just in case you want to pull someone down to hell with you, someone other than me. No, Brett, don't think too much of yourself. You're not that adorable for everyone to accept every piece of you. I've been living with you my entire lifetime, and sometimes I just want to throw you out of the window. Or I'll throw myself out instead because I don't want to be in jail. Or maybe we can fall together to eternity because I know that's your thing, you dumb, mad little kitten.

(God, all the things I'd do for love.)

But I didn't do it. I didn't do it because I know deep down I want you to stay alive. I want you to be in one piece and not break any part of your body, thank you very much. I want you to be tangible so that I can feel that warmth sizzling real close to my skin, and I'll breathe in every part of you. I don't want us to be two spirits and can't hug each other so hard because my hands will be deep in your body, which is not really that bad but not so satisfying itself. Well, that would be great if we all got there together but not too soon, not when we can be here and your body warm and solid and real beside me, cuddling and being all needy and cute to me. You're such a trap, and I'm STUCK. I'm stuck, and for God's sake, I don't even want to get out.

Of course, besides your obnoxious sides, there are some highlights. What do you think I keep you for? You probably don't think I chose you because you're cute, right? Because, in the beginning, you're not cute at all. You're a badass and gave off a don't-fucking-care-what-you-think vibe, and I was in a phase, alright? I was that fanboy who admired you so much and always tried to imitate his idol. You were cool back then, bunny, but not fucking cute. Not at all. And then suddenly, you're cute. Like, seriously? I didn't even get that. You're pretty, and at first, I thought I wouldn't like the cute you more than the cool you, but when I checked our videos and just realised, I stared at you and dug holes into your soul like a creep oh wow what-the-fuck. I have told myself a thousand times to not-look, but God; it kept happening, and guess what? I don't even give a shit anymore. You're a distraction, and I hate you for stealing my attention like nothing. And don't you dare complain; you love the way I look at you just as you're smug about the way you effortlessly seduce me. Whenever we rewatch a video, you're ALWAYS giggling, so annoying that I have to shut that mouth up in my own way.

You're cute and good, and I'm jealous. You're cute and good, and I'm proud. Proud that I am the only one who can take care of you even though it's a tiresome task, but I'll never give up. I'll never fucking give up and delegate it to anyone, you hear me? Don't you dare tell anyone anything before me. Yes, I'm the jealous type blah blah old news, we've already known that, so what? You love it like mad when I'm jealous baby, don't you dare blurt a word.

I wonder if I've ever managed to tame you. Still, I know several people have tried to do that before me, and they all failed desperately. You're not too tame, baby. You're to admire, to appreciate, to be so jealous and to be so proud of, so happy to have. Every trait you've got in you is a gift, kitten, untamable yet so unpredictable and so unique, so alluring, and I'll never get tired of handling all of you. Keep being a mess, baby. Keep being a mess for me.

Happy new year, my silly bunny-kitten lover.

Yours,

Eddy.