The 6th of November 2010 – Walla Walla, Washington

(found in a La Quinta Inn)

Dear Marcy,

This has been quite the week Marcy. It’s been quite the week, full of all those terrible, spine-tingling realizations about all those things that always bother me. It’s really been quite the week.

You know, I think I’ve been alone this whole time, but I’ve never felt lonely. I’ve never felt lonely, at least not until recently. I wonder what that means, feeling so lonely so suddenly. Is that growth? Is that improvement?

How long has it been? How long have I been here? I can’t really tell anymore. I really can’t, really. It’s been so long and there are no friends. There are no lovers. There are just people, just people that I know, just people that I’ve met and seen and talked to and said hello to and will say goodbye to someday. That’s it.

I keep my head down most of the time. I keep my head down when I walk, especially, and I let everyone walking around me just walk right around me. I can’t look at them. I can’t look at anything. It’s not that it makes me angry or that it makes me hate. It just makes me disappointed.

I see regret everywhere.

Then I step in front of something reflective, and that’s just too much.

That’s why I don’t need it from you or anyone else.

I get enough of it from my mirror.

And I just want it all to stop.

I just want it all to change.

I think it’s going to change. I really do, I think.

There’s something inside me, something waiting to get out, something clawing to get out, something that howls and screams. That’s what makes me feel so lonely. The shouts to do are overwhelmed by the whispers to do not.

But there’s something inside me, something desperate to get out, and I want to let it out. I want to get it out.

I’m an animal, at least, that’s what I want to be. Just an animal, just a stupid, worthless, frightened animal. I want to world to seduce me. I want it to satiate me, and I want it to just leave me there to die.

I keep smacking my hand against the wall. It’s the same spot, over and over, that I keep hitting, right by the head of my bed.

I’ve nearly broken through, I think, the wall that is.

Sincerely,

Harold

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