Dear Byron,

I wish I could tell you that I’m cured.  I wish I could tell you I’m done and I’m a happy person now.  You have a vague idea of my psychological past, which is good and bad.  I don’t think you’d like everything that I would say if I came out and told you everything.  But I’m in a hard place right now and I feel like I’ve got no one to turn to because you haven’t the slightest clue how deep this pain runs.  I joke about being crazy, I joke about being bipolar, but right now all I know is that there’s something wrong.  And while you’re in no danger, I need to make sure that I am also in no danger.  I need to seek someone out who can help me.  I’ve been leaning on an old friend that I desperately need to get rid of.  Maybe you’ve noticed I’ve switched to long sleeves, maybe you haven’t.  It’s never been about ending it, and I think I’ve told you that, it’s always been about having the pain manifest itself into something real.  To have a reason for the pain.  To stop feeling so crazy.

I’m uncertain when I will be back.  I know we have a lot of bills, I’ve left you what money we have and I hope you can piece it together from there.  I hope I won’t be gone long, I will try to stay in touch, but I’m not taking my cell phone.  I need distance from bad influences so it’s staying here.

I love you, and I want you to know this isn’t your fault.

Love,

Julia