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The things you’ve been writing and sharing have become inappropriate and harmful. This behavior needs to stop.

I’m not interested in revisiting the past or engaging in any further conflict. What I am making clear is this: do not mention him again in your journal entries, comments, or in any indirect way. There is no reason for you to involve yourself in his life anymore.

We don’t need contact, and we don’t need connection. What I expect is basic respect and an end to the unnecessary drama. Keep your focus on your own life and leave this situation alone.

To the one who keeps insisting this is all real,

I’m writing to you again, though I’m not certain which version of you will read this. The last time I tried, the letter arrived before I finished writing it. You folded it neatly and placed it in a drawer you don’t own. I watched you do it, though I wasn’t there yet.

Time has been behaving strangely around you.
Objects linger a fraction of a second too long when you set them down.
Reflections blink out of sync.
Doors remember being opened even when you swear you never touched them.

You’ve noticed these fractures, even if you pretend otherwise. The world around you is beginning to slip — not apart, but over. Layers shifting. Memories rearranging themselves into patterns you don’t recognize but somehow understand.

There is something you forgot to forget.

It’s trying to return.

You may feel moments of déjà vu that last too long, stretching into entire conversations you don’t recall having but can predict word for word. You may wake up with the sense that the room is slightly wrong — the air heavier, the angles sharper, the silence too aware.

When this happens, do not panic. Panic only accelerates the overlap.

There will come a moment — soon — when you hear a sound that doesn’t belong in this world. You’ll know it instantly, the way you know a dream is a dream only after waking. When you hear it, do not look for the source. The source will already be looking at you.

I wish I could tell you more, but each truth I write becomes untrue in another version of this letter. I’ve already contradicted myself twice, though you won’t notice until later.

If later still exists.

— The One Who Has Seen What Comes Next (and what came before)