Dear Screams,
So I managed to get up before the sun so now I am settling in to write you a letter and then I must turn in my final grades for that class I told you about. I'm tempted to give all of my students an "A" just to buck the system because I'm fairly irked at systems in general these days and the ubiquitous Christmas music is stirring rebellion in my brain since it feels like a happy pill being shoved down my melancholy throat without my consent.
Yes, it is true, as I have said that I am finally positively alone. Rosalind is busy with family, the Blasphemer is exacting cruel punishment on me for my fastidious heart and, lastly, The Mantid has scurried off into the horizon, leaping entire branches in his haste to make distance. I think he thought I might bite off his head when I only wished to copulate. Anyway, these are my kindred spirits and they are unavailable. Loneliness by circumstance, not choice, since likewise I didn't choose to be introverted or scrupulous.
Last night I dreamt of travel, airplanes and strangers' beds. These are restless dreams since my alienation has set me to pacing the cage. I am browsing RVs and school busses and making calendars to mark the days to my departure from this failed experiment with the Arch City: vowing to perform at least one task a day towards the goal. I had the opportunity to leave so many times and then something would pull me back in. This time I'm not falling for schemes.
The trip is scheduled for June. Where I will go is still uncertain, but living on the fringe is appealing to me: with few modern conveniences and an outsider's view. Time to create which is my calling. Not nursing or teaching or waitressing or giving my tacit approval by participating in the absurd capitalist nightmare America has become.
If I must be lonely then I must accept it as my fate and embrace it whole-heartedly. As an agnostic, Screams, you know I don't believe in such nonsense, but this trajectory has taken on the appearance of fate, since I have fought it so doggedly and trained myself so thoroughly to eke out an existence within the system only to keep landing on my back with a bloody sword lodged in my chest.
Sorry, Screams, for the darkness this morning. I will regain my strength, only this time I will train myself not in the weapons of survival in this endless war, but instead to run fast, away from the battlefield entirely.
Do not listen to sages, but only to your own voice, says Emerson...a sage.
Love, Lara.
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