Letters To Paul

Dear Paul,

Today is May 27th, and you’ve been dead for two years now. I’ve made a lot of progress since I last wrote, but things are still very difficult for me, not because of you being gone, but because of other internal conflicts going on inside of me.

You won’t believe this but I’ve actually quit drinking. Today is my 50th consecutive day without alcohol. Perhaps if I’d done this sooner we could’ve both quit drinking at the same time and then you might still be alive.

I bought a car back in January, and I’ve driven to the beach three times already. And yes, I’m taking good care of this car. I still haven’t gotten in touch with Marilyn since she dropped off the Dick Dale portrait. I should give her a call and maybe drive up to see her. I think she’s living with Chris now.

I’ve signed up for the summer 9-ball season in my pool league. I’ve been practicing 9-ball for four months now, and I feel ready to compete at it. I won a medal for being the most improved player in the league for last year’s 8-ball season.

I’ve been trying very hard to get my life back together to where I can have healthy positive relationships with women again, but I’m just not having any luck and it’s tearing me apart inside. My doctor keeps upping my dosage on the antidepressants, and I keep talking to the psychologist, but the loneliness and total lack of intimacy in my life is making life unbearable for me. I keep trying to believe everything will get better, but it doesn’t and I have a hard time believing that it ever will. I had another blind lunch date yesterday, but she canceled on me. I can’t even get a fucking blind date to show up. I might as well just hang myself; it would be a lot less painful.

I hope things are going better for you, and I promise to keep trying to overcome this sense of being loathsome and undesirable, but I don’t know how much longer I can keep it up.

Take care,

Tracy