Dear Mister Gregory,
Thank you for your patience, I’m writing you this very letter from the subway.
Things have been good around here. It’s been good for me to be around people. It’s been good for me to work with people. I love people. Being around them makes me happy because i realize how good i have it. Puts my silly problems into perspective because of how silly their problems sound coming out of their mouths. Their problems being exactly like mine. Just from other perspectives. Silly little complaints. Small in comparison, big on the inside.
Also my wife is doing good, I wish I could see her more. I know out of certainty that this distance won’t last long. I’ll soon be making her coffee every morning.
It honestly only became something taking up my mind because I couldn’t see her. Because suddenly, what I had grown accustomed to, a freedom of movement, was briefly stripped from me.
Reality is so weird.
Some days I’m so restless, I have too much love to give. That’s why I need friends around me.
Also, the settlement finally got through – so you can call me a rich man now. Let’s see how long that lasts. I feel free with this newfound wealth, in a society where I am meant to be trapped by it. I don’t have to listen to a single foreign thought or opinion.
Hopefully I can give most of it away before I spend it.
Now with this feeling of freedom, I feel selfish not to share it. A free space.
I’m saving up for a place in the woods, where people can be themselves and do as they so please. A place where people can experience that exact same feeling – of no charge. Except having to live a life – tough to distinct – still working on it.
I will produce you a most tiny poem before I hop off on High St;
“Eating alone enjoying my freedom.
Faith knowing that above the grey clouds I have a clear blue sky.
Honestly, distracting myself productively”
Anyways, I won’t be able to pay rent this week.
Always around the corner,