I do not know if anyone reads or cares, but I keep trying. I will do so until I am told by those that matter that I should stop, or until circumstance renders me unable.
The job is just that in ways so far; a job in several negative senses of the word. When I become more proficient in all aspects of it, it will be better, since I will operate more or less independently of much of the rest of the staff. At that point I will be in the office some few hours each week, and the rest of the time I will be in the woods doing my own thing. I have already met a few snakes, a bear, some smaller gators, and enough mosquitos to airlift a truck. The office has politics of course, but I see myself as enough of an outsider to avoid much of that. The kids finally have a good sized yard to play in, free of the concerns of too many neighbors. The rent on our site is only $58 per month, and I hope the electric will be quite low also.
There is some small chance I may be moving back that way, as kind of an insult to all the effort to get here. I was interviewed by phone about a lab position I had applied for with an entomology lab. I would get to play with plants and bugs all day, it would mean a 8000 per year raise, and the benefits would likely be better. There is also the fact that finding a place to make our own would be cheaper and easier up there. With that and the extra money, we could line up a spot for us in just a year or two more. That idea alone makes me sure I would likely jump on that job were it offered. My feelings at jumping out of a job I just started are a little sore, but opportunity does not wait, right?
I hope things are ok with you, and whilst there is much I might wish to say, the lingering silence from all I care for worries me deeply. So much of me worries that I keep my vigil of love and devotion for no reason, especially as I write letters to an unresponsive computer screen, but I promised. I dream still, and while some of those dreams pain me oddly, at least it is a way to hear and see you once more. I fear you will or do see my devotion in ugly ways like some in your past. I am no terrible stalker, but I fear perhaps that you see me that way?
So many years we spent building a friendship, and that seems to slowly be disappearing. You called me “still one of a kind” and I fear myself uniquely a fool. A hopeless romantic? The “good guy” who even loses friendship? I miss you. Sorry for my worries. Know that it is merely my bizarre way of keeping you in my mind at times? Please think better of me than I think of myself? Please know that it is my love and madness you still impassion? I long everyday for some word. I always will, so long as needed silence remains.