I just hand-wrote a letter to Sin. The rest of this entry is the letter, with part of the beginning (mentioning a couple people whom I don't think I need to mention on this page) omitted.
Dear [Sin],
I feel terribly silly, writing you this letter. I wish I could talk to you directly, but it's 8:20 A.M. and I wouldn't want to wake you.
Um . . . my paranoia has grown and is driving me nuts! . . . I've been locking my bedroom door, even when I'm awake. This is too weird.
I guess I should get right to the point. I haven't gotten anything done with the job hunt. Unemployment is offically 6%, I think? It's supposed to be the worst epidemic of joblessness since the "Great" Depression, although of course it's not that bad. (Yet.)
I tried to go. I thought I was trying, anyway. All that happened was that I realized my own inadequacy. I threw myself across my bed and soaked my pillows with tears. When I opened my eyes, all was dry, and the sun had set on another wasted day in my hopelessly out-of-control existence -- I can't bear to call anything so hollow, a "life".
What I haven't yet managed to say is that (oh crap, I'm gonna cry) I can't stay in this house another year. I'm so confused! It feels like I could but I can't, all at once. I'm still avoiding my mother's calls, hoping I have a reason to be secretive. That I'll stay here -- but that's not happening. I seem to be proving to myself that there's no way I'd be able to get a job. It would be unfair of me to sign the lease, knowing that I'm incapable of following through, even with your help.
I've probably already demonstrated my phenomenal inability to cope with simple aspects of everyday life, like gassing up my car. All I can think to say is that I'm sorry. Sorry for my many failings, and sorry that I led you on about the housing situation. I wasn't trying to give you a false impression. For a little while, I really deluded myself into the lie that I was a fully functioning human being. Maybe someday, I will be. I that it will take a LOT of time to get me there, though. There's no way I could reasonably be ready to get and maintain employment in time.
There's something else. You promised me that even if I couldn't stay here, in this house, we would still be friends. How DARE you say that to me! You have said that you are careful to remember and keep your promises. You must have known that I would remember that, how it would impact me! You know better than anyone else how much I have been hurt by people who claimed friendship and then turned away from me! I must release you from this oath you have sworn, for I see no way that it may be kept without hurting me.
Look at how we interact from a distance already. We never call with updates of how our lives are going. We just wait to see each other in person, but a month from now, that won't happen, so we'll just fall away. I am notoriously awful when interacting online with people I've met in person. The rules of exchange are totally different (with most people -- Jo is a blessed exception).
So we'll fall apart from one another, whatever we may do.
I hope you can forgive me for misleading you so badly. It is my hope that you will decide to spend a year or more in [the city], where I would never dare travel. That would give me a clean break for a change, instead of a festering wound.
My sincerest apologies,
-REE-