Dear Penelope, A message best left unread.
I often read through some of our old messages. All the way back to when you would meet me in the art room before college and watched me clean. It seems so long ago; a memory of a memory. A whisper in a half forgotten dream. And now... that whisper echoes.
I feel like... like I'm struggling a bit here. Like I'm running to keep up with those walking ahead of me. I'm exhausted. I keep turning to Falmer Abbey to help me. Norway has been a massive support to me so far, but I don't want to be bothering her. I don't want to bother anyone.
Part of me wants to let go. To believe that it's just a story of the past and I just have to live with it. But I can't let go. I'm scared to let go. I'm scared to send you a message. To reach out again. For you to read what I'm writing and respond...
... Unless this is just a message best left unread.