(This is a further installment from the correspondence between Jamie and Luke -- Click here for previous installment)
To start from the first installment of the correspondence between Jamie and Luke, click here.
Dear Luke,
I've lost the artifact. I just can't find it anywhere, and I have really looked. All this after I called the Museum curator to tell her that I have an object which might be of interest to her. I'm so glad I didn't say what I thought it might be, I'd look like a complete idiot now.
I don't know where it is. The house doesn't show any sign of a break-in so I've ruled out theft. Besides, why would anyone want to steal it now, I've had it around for years, why suddenly should anyone want it? You're the only person I've mentioned it to.
Anyway, I'm afraid I'm moving into a really dark space lately. My bad thoughts have taken over. I don't know if I'm falling into the shadows again, like last time. I was pretty sure I'd beaten this. I find myself going over the same self-deprecating thoughts for hours.
Everything I consider ugly has been surfacing. I never thought of myself as a jealous person but a few nights ago I proved myself wrong. I was invited to a dinner party, an otherwise lovely evening but I found myself feeling envious of anyone there who was successful at their work, or who had love in their life. I went home feeling terribly self-piteous, and so hateful, so full of venom.
You're the only person I feel I can say this to. I can barely even come to terms with it myself. I don't understand why these feelings are coming up. After all, I am aware that I have a lot going for me. I'd understand if I were less fortunate.
In this heavy time, I feel like there's no way out. I can't even imagine that things will get better, that I'll snap out of this. It's terrible, I don't know what to do.
I'm so confused. I barely manage to do anything creative. Do you think that's why it feels like I'm going crazy? I haven't touched a paintbrush in over a year. Apart from my letters to you and my diary, I haven't written anything of any substance either. I just drift from day to day, from frustration to frustration. And why when I realize that I am feeling sorry for myself, do I not manage to stop?
Losing the artifact hasn't helped either. It has compounded my sense of failure. I'm tired, drained. All that inspiration seems light years away now. How do I find it again? I really don't know.
You know me well enough to remember that this is not who I am. I trust your support and that's why I'm able to tell you what I'm going through without any fear that you might judge me.
I hope you are well. I will come and see you as soon as I am feeling better.
Love,
Jamie
