>>From: Belacqua
>>To: Perdita
>>Subject: drawing blanks
>>Date: Wed, 8 Nov 2000

I've been up this morning since about 5:30. I just can't fall back asleep. My heart is pounding, my stomach is in a huge knot, my head is flying...I'm a wreck. It was really great talking to you last night. I was curious to find out what your voice sounded like. It's very soothing. I don't know why, but I feel like crying. The feeling has been washing over me since I woke up. I feel it in the back of my throat, then my eyes burn, and maybe one or two tears fall. I don't know what my problem is. I just feel hopeless. I can hardly write, and I can hardly think. God, it's not going to be a good day. I feel so alone.

I always feel dumb on the phone, like I've said something wrong. I have no confidence in myself. I can't do anything right. I wish I hadn't gotten out of bed today. I don't even care how I die. I just want my heart to stop so I never have to think again. And this isn't because of the phone. Just the mood I'm in right now makes me feel like an idiot. I felt good going to bed last night, though. It was comforting. I felt satisfied, and for a little while, I wasn't alone and surrounded by silence or a droning television. Now I feel like a mangy rat in the bottom of a dumpster. The crying broke loose. It really hurts to cry. I feel like this morning I either want to take all my medication at once, or not at all. I'll probably do the latter. I'm calming down a little. God, this is a hell of an e-mail to send someone first thing in the morning. I'm so sorry. I've been writing for 45 minutes and I haven't really said anything. The sun is rising and I can't figure out why. I wish the world was dark forever.

Double suicides are so beautiful. People usually think they're silly or horrifying. I think it's spectacular: two people together who just can't take anymore and who simultaneously cease to exist. That's what I’ve always hated about Ethan Frome. At the end, they try to commit double suicide, and they both just get banged up and even more miserable. Someone should’ve walked by and shot them. I'm terrified of dying alone. I don't want to leave by myself, like I've spent my entire life. For once, I just want someone beside me who feels as awful as I do and just can't live another moment. I don't want someone to find a lonely body with tears dried on my cheeks. I want them to see how it's so bad that two people had to end their lives. I want someone to whisper, "I understand," while I'm dying. I want to whisper, "I understand," to someone else as they're dying. I just can't die the way I've lived.

Today is going to be tough. It's so hard not to break down in school. I'll be sitting there shivering, my throat knotted up and my eyes closed to try and stop the tears. I can usually hold it until I get home, but then I fall apart and lay on the floor wherever I'm standing. I hate this fucking disease.

I don't want to end this on a negative note, so let me thank you for being on the other end when I called and thank you for being on the other end of this e-mail. Thank you for understanding. I love you for all of those things and for everything I know about you, and the more I find out, the stronger it gets. I desperately hope you have a good day, and I hope to hear from you soon.

Belacqua

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>From: Perdita
>To: Belacqua
>Subject: Re: drawing blanks
>Date: Wed, 8 Nov 2000

Belacqua,

Today sucks. I fucking woke up at 5:30 like I do every single fucking day, and I was ready early, so I layed back down and accidentally fell asleep. Then I came into work and the phone was ringing when I stepped in the door, and it was my boss calling to yell at me for something that he got yelled at about. I'm convinced it's not my fault, but that doesn't matter because when I get yelled at, I freak out. I can't handle getting yelled at. So I just went right back outside for a few more cigarettes, and then I had a stack of work to do when I came back in. I shoved it aside and tried to write back to you instead, and the network was down so I couldn't do anything. I'm so ready to fucking punch through a window or something. And to make things worse, my computer is making this maddening buzzing sound that is literally driving me more and more crazy, and I'm about ready to throw it into the wall. I'm already smacking it to make it stop for just a few seconds, but it just starts right back up again.

Belacqua, don't ever feel dumb talking to me on the phone or saying anything at all to me. I know saying that probably won't help anything, but I'm not here to judge you, and even though I'm human and have that natural instinct to have an opinion about people, I've already made my decision about you and there's very little you can do to change that. I'm just so glad you're you. It doesn't matter what you say to me on the phone. Knowing you're on the other end, even if you're not saying anything, will make me feel less alone. I feel almost like I know what you're thinking, as it seems we have such extraordinarily similar kinds of thoughts.

I think double suicides are beautiful, too. Why do you think I'm so enthralled by Columbine? It's so romantically morbid: two people able to agree on the one thing the rest of the world is terrified of. I've tried to become interested in serial killers and other school shootings and shit and it's just not the same because there aren’t two of them. I think there's really something to be said for two people who can know the same pain and the same desperation. It's not an easy thing to come by.

And you sure as hell don't have to apologize to me for saying what you feel. I'm so glad you say what's on your mind. That's what makes you so amazing to me, and what's on your mind is generally so close to what's on my mind. If you tried to hide it, you'd only be hurting yourself more, not to mention that you'd be acting like all those people who drive me nuts because of their blatant stupidity and their utter inability to recognize the obvious. I'm not gonna say I understand everything about you because that's surely impossible, especially after only two weeks, but I can tell you that I feel really fortunate to have come across someone who understands those things about me that I know are nearly impossible for most people to comprehend. And I can only hope the feeling is mutual.

I understand, and I'm so glad you're you. Please write soon.
Perdita