TOUCHMEDONOTTOUCHMEIAMALIVE

Thursday, October 8, 1970

Fig. 019

A letter from the Great Admiral Admiral to his crew, in regards to his loss of control.

My Crew,

It's four in the morning time. Hand in the jar. So to speak. Bottle pressed hard to my lips. If they bleed then I can at least feel it. I tried so hard. I couldn't compare. I was stuck in this park, withering beneath the tree. No sunlight ever saw me. I don't want your sympathy. I just need you to understand why I have failed you time and again. Alright, we'll do this your way. It was her. She was every fault. I fear I might have made her up at this point. I know that she has lost me. I am no longer tied to her moorings. I am now spinning even more out of control than ever before. I will be leaving you in the morrow. What will it take to make you understand? I am alone. Completely alone now. She no longer exists. Not to me. I have collapsed. I am nothing. I made a pact. It is done with. How I am even alive escapes me. It's as if he feels this is my hell. The one thing I thought I was meant for has turned out to be a complete sham. Where will I go? I shall leave you the ship. I will walk. My feet are already mangled from my trials in the city. No desert can tarnish me more. I pray you will all eventually forgive my illness. Return to your families, should they still exist. This life is no longer yours to claim, unless you want it. I truly love each of you, as you have stayed fast in my search.

Farewell,
No longer your Admiral