Dear Mom,

The guys really got my hopes up for Branson, and I wasn't disappointed. Between Silver Dollar City, the shows, and the amusement park I was a little overwhelmed.

I ended up taking two days to explore everything, and honestly could have stayed for a few weeks without getting bored. Especially because of the shows.

I stopped for a picnic lunch near Cooper Creek and found a cemetery.

Graveyards, I've decided, are a bad idea for me No sooner do I see the stones lined up in rows than the suffocating terror is on me again. I know it's been years since anyone had a bell placed above their grave to alert the watchers if they were buried alive, but I feel as though the watchers have given up their vigil, sure of my passing.

I've been curled in my blankets, frightened all over again by the bare knowledge of your absence from this world.

It all feels so empty. How can there be meaning, or feelings, or anything but emptiness?

The void is before me, upon me, swallowing me whole, and there's no one to save me. I've never been more alone than right here, right now, on the journey we should have taken together.

I thought I was better. I thought that now, four months later I wouldn't be capsized by the pain, mutilated by the guilt of experiencing all this without you.

And what are all these experiences worth when I can't share them?

What is the point of unclenching my fists and letting go of the future that cannot be when it leaves me with nothing?

The night is dark around me. I know that day will come and this torrent of anguish will take a back seat to my reason. I will wipe my eyes, shore up my heart, and realize that I must find balance between the grief that is so very real and the life I must continue living.

The light will dawn, the void withdraw, the dreary ghosts find their places in the recesses of my mind.

I've pulled Jasper's hexaflexagon out of the shoe box and I've been rubbing it between my thumb and forefinger, to the point his number has almost faded away.

I keep remembering his look of concern when he asked me if I was okay, and the careful way he kept his distance while allowing me the presence of another person.

All this from someone who barely knew my name.

Maybe he deserves an acknowledgment. Maybe it's too late.

Maybe he doesn't even remember me.

Maybe he's not ready to connect on any deep or damaging level with a girl on the edge. But if so, why the hexaflexagon?

I know there's only one way to tell, but in my mind this scrap of folded paper has somehow become a symbol of the end of all of this. Like maybe if I wait till the end of the trip to read it, I won't be disappointed by what's inside. Maybe whatever it is will bring the broken parts of my soul back together.

And I know it's too much pressure to put on a scrap of paper, much less a man who knows nothing of the situation, but I've waited so long to open it, basking in the idea of the person Jasper seemed to be, it's grown into a frightening specter of disappointment.

I'm going to open it tonight. It can't make everything worse, right?

I love you,

Bo.

I've taken far longer than I need to putting the latest letter in the shoe box, conscious of the folded piece of paper waiting on the shelf.

I'm frightened to open it, knowing I've blown it up in my mind to be this impossible magical thing that will heal all my hurts.

The courageous thing at this point is to just read it, knowing all along that Jasper is a human who isn't part of the situation. And on a deeper level that Jasper will never be able to fix me. I have to come out of this on my own.

Opening the note took all the courage I possessed. The front side still bore his number, though worn smooth. I found the seam and peeled it back to reveal neat handwriting filling the second side.

“I can see the lost look in your eyes, and whatever happened, or whoever left you to feel this hole in your center, I'm sorry. If you need a reminder that there is a human thinking of you, refer to side one.”

My eyes so filled with tears I could barely see I refolded it again to show yet another side covered in blue ink.

“If you're gone from the moment, lost in the fray, then run through the darkness and stray from the way. And know that the heart of the light that you seek, can be found in the dark if you know how to speak.”

These words with their lilting rhythm have been running through my head on repeat till I think I have them memorized.

How did he know?

I'm angry that he could tell just by looking at me, on a day that really wasn't that bad, that I was broken. I'm angry, yet grateful.

I'm going to call him to thank him. Not tonight, but sometime soon. He should have my gratitude for helping me to feel a little less alone.