I very rarely think in words at all. A thought prevails and I may try to express it in words afterwards, but the words are never there to begin with. But sometimes if I’m lucky, I can identify the thought bubble almost instantaneously with what I like to call “special transmitters”. You see, each thought shape has a different feel – sometimes the thoughts are quiet as a mouse, and sometimes it is loud and thunderous. Sometimes it sounds like it is close by, and sometimes it sounds further off.
And that’s how I feel with my beloved Rachel. With my mind constantly flitting back and forth, I can pick up on her thoughts the easiest – like we’re connected in some way, shape or form that’s yet to be discovered – but then suddenly, once I manage to grasp onto it, it fades away. It is similar to 100,000 thoughts in my mind trying to win a race but there is no
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I am afraid to tell you that once David, Rosalind and Petra left on the fish-shaped machine to Sealand, a stray Fringe person – a person with a small, infant-like body growing out of its bare torso – shot me with an arrow. During the night an infection appeared, something that I have never seen anything like at the Apothecary. It looks bad. Really, really bad.
But alas, Rachel, please do not worry yourself sick for me. I have connected to Petra and she is going to come back and rescue you, my dear. She will make sure of it, and I promise you that it will happen and you will fly across the ocean to safe land. And life will go on.
I don’t have the strength to tell her I am lying. I don’t mean to inflict false hope into that beautiful mind of hers, but I’m terrified. I am terrified for her safety, because I know I will leave this world with her following closely behind. And it’s not fair, because I am the one who promised her safety. I am the one she put her trust into; her affection. And I will never be able to provide what she needs the most.