I'm Still Not Over You

Ah, Nathaniel. Yes, you've crossed my mind more then once after you died, I admit it. You left me. Just when I was starting to warm up to you--maybe even like you. But no, you had to work on your own like the little hero. You had to sacrifice yourself to save the world, just because of your damn pride.

Do you have any idea how that's affected me? No, you don't. Plain and simple. Guys like you just have to prove that you can do anything on your own and without any help. You god damn bastard.

How could you? How could you leave me like that? It's worse then leaving a bride at an alter because you decided you weren't ready yet. But I'm sure you don't know about anything like that. How could you? You died too young to grasp the concept of love. Or did you? Bartimaeus said something when he first entered you head. Something like: If only Kitty knew what was going on in here. Did you really care for me? It's all I want to know.

And I'll never find out.

How could I? You're dead and there's no way I can summon Bartimaeus. And besides, how could I? I don't even know if he's alive or not. But knowing you, you pulled Bartimaeus down with you. That's got to be some sort of motto for you. If I'm going down, you're goin' down with me. That seems to fit you perfectly. What do you think?

Oh hell. I'm writing to a dead guy.

But there has to be way to get to you again. And I'm not killing myself. I'm not stupid like you, Mr. John Mandrake. Mr. Nathaniel. Mr. Hot shot guy who has to prove to everyone that there are two sides to every man. I think I've got men figured out now: Personality 1; Pure stupidity. Personality 2; You all care too much. Not caring's easy, Nathaniel. You should've learned how to do that back when you were alive. You would've lived then, you know. But you didn't. You cared too much.

Just like Ptolemy and Bartimaeus. And to think you died the same sort of way Ptolemy did. I know how Bartimaeus feels now. His heart was ripped out. He knew he could've saved Ptolemy, but instead Ptolemy sacrificed himself to save Bartimaeus. Funny how things work. The person you love dies for you; you live and suffer from then on.

Tell me Nathaniel, what is there left to do? I've been around in the world, desperately trying to get you out of my mind. But none of it worked. Everything I saw, every emotion I felt, it reminded me of you. I went to America, and all I could think about was how you would be thinking of a way to get the commoners back home to be happy with the way the war was going. I went to Arabia instead; trying to get away from you, but instead I thought about how you used Arabian to summon things and stuff. So I left Arabia. Then I had a brilliant idea. I decided to go to Egypt. You weren't there, but Bartimaeus and Ptolemy were. They followed me around until I literally burst into tears, running to the airport.

I'm not happy either way, Nathaniel. Without you, I think of Bartimaeus and Ptolemy. Without them, I think of you. Can I ever be alone again? Why do the three of you haunt me so?

Perhaps it's time to admit something. I loved you. I think. Are you happy now? I admitted it. There. Now can I be alone once more? Of course not. Now that I've admitted it, you won't leave for sure. I'll be stuck with the fact that I loved you and you left me. Your image will haunt me for the rest of my life, even in my dreams. Is there no where I can run? Is there no where I can hide? Why don't you leave me alone? I've told you everything you wanted to hear, so go away.

Crap. Talking to three dead guys now. One I don't even know.

Don't you get it, Nathaniel? Your death is literally driving me crazy. How am I supposed to cope with all this? I'll tell you: I can't. Plain and simple. So what am I supposed to do until I die? I can't kill myself--that's the coward's way out. I can't go anywhere--I've already been to the places I've always wanted to see, and everything reminds me of you. So what am I supposed to do? Sit here and rot in my house, writing some stupid letter that will never be sent? Tell me. I need something. Anything. I just need something that will keep me busy for another twenty, thirty years.

Oh, that's right! I'm dying faster then I should because I went to the Other Place with Bartimaeus. I don't have long, now. I had completely forgotten about that. So, should I look at the dying at an early age a good thing or a bad thing? You tell me. I vote good. What do you think?

At least then I can see you again.