Dear Ben

Dear Ellen,

How are you going to feel when Ben is gone? He is your brother; blood. You've known him longer than I have, and probably love him a ton more. I can't even imagine.

You know it's coming soon, everyone can see how his eyes are more bloodshot, he stumbles when he walks, sometimes can't even get out of bed in the morning.

And all I can think when he's too busy catching his breath to remember to breathe is that this has gone so fast. It seems like a week ago that he took me to soccer practice, and we stayed there until dusk, as he ran.

He can't run anymore. I had to tell him that a few weeks ago when he was lacing up his sneakers ready to hit the pavement. He's too weak. I let that one slip too. He told me to go home. I didn't. Instead I went up to your room to let him cool off, but before I did, I forced him to take off his sneakers, and then I took them up to you, and you did whatever with them. All I know is that you agreed with me. We don't need this going any faster than it already is. We don't need the expedited delivery. We want the standard mail. Ha, like we even want that.

Fuck, I'm such a girl. My tear ducts have been mocking me lately. Like with every step I take, they threaten to burst open. I hate it. I really do.

And another thing. We're hardly friends anymore. All of our conversations are about Ben. That's not how this started, and I don't want it to end. You were always the constant in my life, Elle. And when Ben's gone how are you going to cope? Because I can bet that you'll shut me out, and your dad'll be too busy with his other family, icing over the emotion, to get you to a professional or help you through it.

When you see me, you're going to think of him. And that's the end of it.

Love,
Olivia

P.S. I really just want to be your friend after this.