I cannot believe it’s the end of 2345 already. Of course, it’s only 45.12.31 here. On Earth, something like fifteen years have passed, and it’s probably closer to my birthday than it is to Christmas. By now, all of us have stopped keeping track of what time it is back home. There’s just no point. When we slow down to conventional speeds, and can actually interact with Sol, then we’ll go ahead and adjust our clocks. Until then, ship’s time is as good as any other time, so we stick to that.
It’s been over a year since you left, but in many ways it still feels like yesterday. Look, let’s be honest here: You’re not the first woman I’ve fallen in love with. You are, however, the first woman that’s ever taken this long to get over. I felt things for you that seemed to be deeper than anything I’ve ever felt for anyone else. You seemed to be perfect for me in ways I hadn’t even imagined. I never thought I’d meet a woman like you, and the odds of it happening here on this ship are, well, astronomical, if you’ll forgive the pun.
I think the abruptness of your exit, and the method, have brutalized my brain. Is it possible I’m still in shock from the whole thing? I suddenly wish I had concentrated more on my psychological studies while I was in school. Not that it would help much. I can heal my own physical wounds, but psychologists are notorious for being inept at healing their own psychological wounds. In any case, it seems there’s a significant portion of my psyche that’s devoted to you and refuses to let go. Probably thanks to my obsessive tendencies. That’s probably all it is; not shock, but plain, simple denial combined with stubbornness.
A diagnosis doesn’t help me a lot though. I still feel the same. An incredible sense of loss. Hopelessness and despair are always lurking in the shadows, waiting for my defenses to go down. Whenever I think of you, which is all the time, there’s always that chance that I’ll slip and the depression will take over again. I think I’m doing pretty well, but in the end it’s how I feel on a day-to-day basis that matters. And day-to-day, I feel generally shitty. Of the three of us, this had to happen to the one who has problems with depression, right?
This whole situation has just kind of fucked me up. And why not? It’s a completely fucked-up situation. Whoever heard of such a situation, anyway? It’s beyond absurd. If I tried to explain it to anyone outside this ship, I think their head would explode. I can just hear it now: “Yeah, we all brought companions along, but I’m the only one who brought my daughter, so of course I fell in love with someone else’s companion (who happens to be a personality facet of my daughter, inhabiting an android body). That someone else turned out to be hom, so said companion was transformed into a man. That male companion then had to replace the crewmember he was a companion to, and I have to interact with him every day, while I try to save the life of said crewmember so they can both live happily ever after. And now I write letters to a woman who doesn’t exist anymore.” That boggled my mind just writing it.
I guess it might do me some good to step back for a little bit. It would probably help if I just stopped writing to you, but at the moment it’s my only outlet for these feelings. No one else on board wants to hear about them; they’d rather I just got over them. Besides, I just can’t bring myself to let you go. I know you’re already gone, and you won’t be coming back, but the memory of who you were is too precious to me to simply drop (even if I could). Maybe someday I’ll get tired of it. Maybe someday I’ll admit to myself exactly how ridiculous it is to be writing to you. Then again, it seems slightly saner than writing letters to myself…
In the meantime, I’ll keep writing these silly letters to no one. These letters that never go anywhere, addressed to someone who doesn’t exist. These letters I’ll probably carry around in my data store for the rest of my life. It feels like an incredibly stupid thing for me to be doing, and lord knows I hate doing things that make me feel stupid. Unfortunately, they’re pretty much the only thing keeping me balanced at the moment. Which, in itself, is pretty screwed up. At this point though, anything that works is what I’ll do.