over the seas between us and through the forests too.

Dear you,

It's 3:51 AM and I can't sleep. 

I'm sick and my head feels like it is going to split open. 

I'm listening to Christmas music because it is finally December and I have been patiently waiting since Halloween. 

But I have to write this letter you will never read to tell you that there is a Bright Eyes Christmas album and I didn't know about it. 

I am praying to all that is holy for the first time in months that you knew about it or at least will find it. Because we never talked about it and we talked about everything and this is Bright Eyes and Christmas and we both know those are two of the best things that ever happened to us and you are not here to share either of them with me. 

But I'm not trying to pull the sappy shit right now. Right now I am wishing I had your address so I could actually send you this letter so I could let you know about this album that is almost eleven years old and wonder how in the hell did we never know about it. 

Because no one will ever share Christmas and Bright Eyes the way we did. No one will ever share music the way we did. And I really don't care if they can "empathize" with me. Because you know what?

They can't. 

They can fuck off. 

No, but really. 

I'm sick of hearing about how they miss you as much as I miss you because how could they possibly ever miss you the way I miss you?

That sentence probably didn't make sense but I've been taking nine pills a day and can't operate heavy machinery or my brain. 

The point here is that Bright Eyes has a Christmas album and it is fantastic and I hate when people talk about you.

I'm just not ready to talk about you yet. 

Sincerely (it's Christmas season),

xx

Blue

P.S. Don't tell them.