Dear Augustus,

Hey. It's been precisely 6 months and 18 days since you, uh, passed. Screw it, since you died. That's what you did, isn't it? You wouldn't want me to sugarcoat it. It's, um, it's been tough. It's getting better, though. A slow burn.

I've been talking to Hazel a lot. She's doing well. Misses you like hell, of course, but she's alright. She's strong. I get why you like her... Why you liked her, I guess. You guys were good together. It fit. Since we're on Hazel, I read that book she's always going on about. Took me 3 months. Braille is hard. Good book, though. Really, um, helps, I think. That Van Houten guy is a genius. Sorry he turned out to be an ass.

Anyway, Monica has completely fallen off the face of the planet. Which sucks. It really does. Like, it sucks so hard that it makes me wish I still had tear ducts. And that's the one badass thing I've gained since going blind, so you know I'm serious. She was a good thing that I had, and now I'm missing most of my good things. My vision, my girlfriend, my best friend. It's no good that you left when you did, man. I needed you. Why did you do that?

Don't get me wrong, I would if I could. And I'm far past the point where I take it personally, but we all miss you back down here. Or up here. Or just... Here. I don't really know, anymore. Where in the world is Augustus Waters? It could be a TV show. Hazel and I could go around different places you liked and see if we felt your presence. I'd be better at it, of course. I've got the whole "blind prophet" thing going for me.

Let's see. What have you missed? They've released three new Max Mayhem books. I know. Three. I'm still working on the first one (like I said, braille is really fucking hard) but Hazel says they're pretty good. Mayhem lives, of course. Gets shot a lot, but he's Mayhem. If only we could be so lucky, right? Guy gets shot thirty-two times in the head and survives, but I can't even handle a pathetic cell division in my eye. Now that's depressing.

Support group sucks without you. I know that's weird, since I was the reason you started coming in the first place, but it's weird going there where so many people don't know your story or even your name. Sucks for them, I guess, right? Hazel's been missing from group, a lot. I have, too. We give each other enough support. All we really wanna talk about in the first place is you, though, so it works.

I've actually started going to a therapist on my own. Her name's Dr. Seymour. I could not make that shit up. Despite that unfortunate appellation, she's actually been helping a lot. She's the one who told me to write you this letter. Don't worry; she's not going to read it. This thing is just between you and me. Or maybe just me. Like I said, some kind of sign would be nice, because I have no idea what's up with you.

Since I've lost my vision, I've been focusing a lot on sound. That's what Dr. Seymour's been helping me with. She says that people who go blind tend to center in on another of our senses, since we've lost our main medium of communication with the world. I've been listening to music. Loads of it. Everywhere I go. I like classical, now. It fits any mood and you don't really have to listen that hard. You just gotta hear it. But I miss the sound of your voice, Gus. Sometimes I call your voicemail just to hear you. I say hello sometimes, but you always stick to the script. I wish you wouldn't do that.

So, anyways, I've got blind-people duties to attend to, so... Bye for now. I'll write you again. See what you can do about that sign in the meantime, could you?