Letters To No One

Letter #15: Starting Over

Sometimes I imagine it would be easier to pick up and just leave. I imagine it would take some time, but eventually I'll have a whole new life, a whole new personal, a whole new outlook. I like the idea that I could leave everything behind and just disappear.
At the same time, though, I don't know where I'd go. I set my sights on New York City a long time ago, but, now my entire future has been compromised, and it seems that the life I imagined for myself might not be the one I end up with.
I have no idea what the future holds for me, I don't know what tomorrow will bring or what choices I'll have to make, hell I'm not even sure I want to know.
Part of me enjoys the little surprises each day brings, but another part of me wishes that I did know what would happen. I want to know who my first love will be, who will publish my first book, who will take a chance on me and give me the opportunity to show that I am as good as everyone else.
Like I said, I don't know the answers to any of these questions, and that's alright but sometimes, when everything seems like it's getting worse instead of better, I want to know. I want a little bit of clarity. I want to know that I'll end up ok and not in a gutter somewhere drinking myself to death.
That's my biggest fear. I've never told anyone, but the truth is, I'm afraid of what my disease will do to me. I'm afraid that alone I won't be able to handle the sudden episodes that come on like a blizzard and leave me cold and broken to pick up the pieces. I'm scared that inside I'm too broken for anyone to care. I'm afraid, and that is probably my biggest flaw.
Someday I'd like to believe that I could just pick up and go off on an amazing, self-defining journey like Bilbo Baggins, or like Jem and Scout, or Cassie for Cassiopeia. Until then I guess my life is this. An endless balancing act, just waiting for the coin to fall and pull me over. Maybe then I'll be able to understand why I'm like this.