Date Unavailable. Time Unavailable.

TO: No Recipient

I guess this is pointless. I was told that you should always write things down when you’re going through a tough time, in a diary or something. Apparently, you even live longer if you do, because it takes away the stress. But it just feels stupid to write letters to myself, so I gave up on writing a diary when I was about twelve.

Maybe this is the same. I’m writing e-mails, now, and I’m not sending them. They’re addressed to Bekah, but I can’t trust even my friends. She’ll think I’m mad if I send it, so I can’t.

I can only leave them in my ‘saved’ box and hope that no one ever hacks into my laptop. Maybe I’d get taken to a loony bin if they did. At least life might be simpler there.

But I’m giving up. At least, it sounds like I am. I don’t want to give up. I’m scared of giving up. I just have to let it all go. Maybe, when all my angst and fear is on paper, I’ll be able to get on with life again. I’ll get over all the pain, and then it’ll all be okay. I hope that’s what will happen.

For now, though, my job is to write.

The End

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