To abandon such a life. I've been a slave enough to my anxieties, and to my fantasy, and to wanting; though it was only through you I realised such a thing. I see you, slumped over a desk pencil-pushing, over your garden drinking your life away to maybes and wanting, as I have.
Oh, how you've missed so much. How I've missed so much. I'll tell you, though, it gets easier once you stop accepting what's happened to you as truths and realise what you can change; it gets easier once you realise there's some worth in you and your time. Once you realise change is required, all that's left to do is change, and as difficult as that may be, it's real life happening! Wallowing about and fantasising won't stop you aging, and it's no way to live a life.

What you need, as I did, a pseudonym, a passport, a boat across the fission lake. You need to change, you need to leave, you need to realise there's more for you. I'll be waiting on the bank for you, maybe, or maybe I'll have moved on. I'm only so patient. It's real life happening.