>>From: Belacqua
>>To: Perdita
>>Subject: bricks in the wall
>>Date: Wed, 17 Jan 2001

I did what I always do when I have to confront my parents and I know I can't talk to them face to face: I wrote a letter. I'm so much more composed on paper than I am conversationally; it really seems like the only thing to do. I don't know if I'm going to give it to them and let them read it alone, watch them read it, or read it to them, but what's important is that I got it down, I said it the best way I think I could have, and really no matter how they choose to react, it doesn't matter one flying damn. It's strange to look at things (what I can see of them anyway) and think that soon I may never see them again. It's weird that I may not drive my car for a really long time, because it's really their car, it's not totally paid for, and I don't like driving all that much anyway and don't feel like dealing with gas and insurance costs. It's weird that for the first time, I'm grabbing my own life away from my parents whether they want me to or not. I'm starting my own life independently of them and I won't have to answer to them anymore. I'm doing something I want and need to do, and I’ve never had that sort of freedom.

God, I'm fucking tired and I'm thinking in circles, but at least they aren't the usual tail-biting snake circles that never get me anywhere. They're these free-floating spirals that I can't see the end of and I don't particularly care how they end. I don't have a bad feeling anywhere inside of me about this, and that is very unusual...and convincing. I think I probably needed a day off from school today. I needed a day to sit and think and get everything in a line together and relax. If everything goes right this weekend, I'm going to drop my classes next week. I will officially withdraw myself from the university and tie a ribbon around the past nineteen years before burying them and moving on.

Thank you for existing, Perdita. Thank you for all you've given me and all you've let me give to you. Thank you for understanding and being who you are and loving me for who I am and enduring this paragraph without vomiting. You are the most amazing and important person I have met and could ever possibly meet. I could extend this for volumes and still not fully express my gratitude towards you or the feeling of fortune that I have that we ever tripped across each other's paths. I love you more than is humanly possible and I'm so glad you can accept, appreciate, and reciprocate that.

I'm overwhelmed right now and in desperate need of some sort of rest. Maybe Lilith will let me sleep for an hour or so. I hope your day is going well. Mine has certainly improved and calmed down some, which is really all I can hope for right now until I leave this terrestrial hell behind me.

I love you so much, Perdita.
Belacqua

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>From: Perdita
>To: Belacqua
>Subject: Re: bricks in the wall
>Date: Wed, 17 Jan 2001

Belacqua,

About ten minutes ago, I got to that point I get to everyday at work where I don't think I can possibly make it through another second. I'm having a strange sort of day. I had one more beer last night than I usually have (and I usually only have two), but it turned my chemical balance all crazy, and now I'm fucked up. I put a hole in my arm last night that wasn't at all necessary because I didn't have the overwhelming anger that usually accompanies that sort of thing, but I feel like there's something WRONG with me. I know that's kind of an understatement and all, but it's a strange feeling to have appeared all of a sudden. I feel all weird, like I'm yet another version of myself that I didn't know existed. I just want to take the bandage off my arm and stare at it for awhile, but that would just make a mess and cause a stir at work, so alas, I'm fucked again.

I'm so glad you're getting all set to talk to your parents about moving up here. I'm completely prepared to talk to my parents about this one, too, as I know they're not going to take it well, but I figure it's about time they recognize me the way I want them to recognize me. They have this odd way of turning things around to be about them, when I'm trying to talk about ME. And I'm feeling very much like I need to yell at someone for it, so they're probably gonna get the butt end of that one.

I should take the next half hour here at work and use it for a personal conversation with myself about the fact that I'm human. I don't FEEL human. Who the fuck keeps trying to convince me that I AM human? This is ridiculous. I'm not prepared to spend the rest of my life withering away in this stupid as shit job that requires absolutely no thought or talent at all, and yet wastes all my time nonetheless. I'm not prepared to give into the world's demands that I become a well-adjusted adult who just takes what's thrown at me. Fuck that. I'm so sick of this. I'm sick of everything. And I know I'm being repetitive and saying things that both of us already know, but I WANT OUT. I just want to leave this god-forsaken planet already.

Of course, the only thing keeping me going right now is knowing you're likely to be coming here shortly. Again you've thanked me for existing, and still I'm shocked to all hell that someone could ever appreciate my existence when even I can't. The only way it makes any sense at all is in knowing how glad I am that YOU exist, and then it all seems to make sense in a way that nothing ever has before. I love you so much, Belacqua. You're my reason for living.

I love you.
Perdita