To read the handwritten letter, click here: EL Letter 4
Wednesday, 29th Feb. 2012
I’m sorry. Two words which deserve more. I had a complete melt down after I posted your letter… a week ago. Seems much, much longer.
I drank myself into a scary place and then freaked, afraid the rock’n’roll death awaited me… and I hadn’t survived everything to drown in my own vomit.
There is no lonelier place on earth than an all-night servo, nursing the world’s worst coffee.
You know how people drink to forget or to be numb… I’ve been both most of my life. Unwilling to remember and trained to feel nothing. When those first jagged strikes of anger came down my pen I wanted to feel their full shock.
It ended up just being a wake up call. Decided as I forced that awful coffee down that I would change. No more running.
So this come to you from a café in Brisbane’s west end – I imagine it as a bom-ho London with better weather. I arrived two days ago and have an appointment with my Nan’s solicitor in the morning.
When I got the letter six years ago I did nothing. How did I explain not replying for six months? I have no idea what will have happened to her estate. Guess the law monger will tell me tomorrow.
I really just wanted to say sorry and please don’t give up on me. I spent the whole trip up listening to ‘Don’t Give Up’ – taking time to cry on the side of the road for hours when I needed to. Sitting in my shitty car in the pouring rain like I’d never cried before. An ocean of emotions to drown in.
At Brunswick Heads the sun came up and I went in, stripped off and swam beyond the breakers and floated for along time. And it was almost peaceful. As I floated I realised you always accepted me for who I was. You did what I never could. Just see me for me.
I’m sorry for hating you for it. For wishing you’d hate me in return.
I’m not saying it will be easy, but no more running. I’m not giving up on me. Thank you for being there for me – enjoying these eggs benedict by proxy.
Love you always,