Dear Anne,

I haven't heard from you in four days. Is this the end? I'm growing anxious about your disappearance. Where are you? Why aren't you answering my mail?

Have you decided I'm too much of a pain in the ass for you? Is it because I told you I am not ready for marriage and kiddies? I know what you're looking for and why you are writing to me. You want a man. My father tells me I'm not a man; I'm still a little boy. A little boy who is seeking attention. I haven't grown up, in other words. Yeah, okay, maybe.

I tried, Anne. I went to college like a good boy. It didn't work; it drove me crazy. Father thinks I want what he wants. It's domineering way. It sets me back—makes me want to go in the opposite direction. I oppose everything he stands for.

Don't go away, Anne. I need you desperately. My mind is filled with a million things I want to say to you. I talk to my pillow at night. I want you; I need you. My life is empty without you. See, I'm dependent on you already. I cling to you.

Maybe I should marry you and stay with you always. Do you want a clinging child on your hands? You wouldn't need babies if you had me. I'm your baby.

Dammit. I'm breaking down and breaking down fast. Please answer. Just say you are okay and that you won't ever leave me. Please, Anne. I'm begging you. I'm on my knees.

My tears are running down my cheeks, dripping off my chin. I love you; I love you!

Why am I feeling this way about someone I met only once? It's overwhelming. I feel as though I will die if you don't send a word—one single, solitary word. Just one. Don't leave me. Don't ever leave me.

I can't think. I can't leave the garret; I can't draw. I'm trapped.

Anne, oh, Anne!

Desperately,

Corey