Written April 13, 2011
seven weeks, my dear. remember? that first frantic letter, and i was so scared. but you were you— thank God. so calm and kind and courteous. you agreed to spend the hour with me and my fidgeting fingers …and just listen. calmly, kindly, courteously. bet you regret it now. i bet you wish that you never knew me, like you do now. and do you wish that you had ignored me, like i think you do now? grow up. the eleven years you have on me are the only ones you’ve got. grow up, because i need you. i need everyone i have. this isn’t child’s play anymore. and i’m sorry if i’m wrongly attacking you, but what’s definitely not a game is playing tricks with my brain (and maybe even playing for keeps), as it cheats you out of a friend i know you truly wish you could help.