My Neighbor I Know So Well (AmeCan)

I'm Flying Back (America)

4 January, 1930

My work has come down to me flying back to Canada and speaking face-to-face with Mat. It's the only way to finally lay all of this to rest.

I feel awful for having only called him to try and express my sincerest apologies, but I've been desperate to be forgiven, to have at least something lifted off my plate. He hasn't answered to any of my calls, so it's pretty obvious he's still mad. How can someone stay so mad at another for so long? Surely grudges don't last forever. Well, I'm not sure if it's the same for Francis and Arthur. I'm not sure why they've at each other's throats for more than a hundred years. I'm not even sure if they still have a grudge! Has arguing become a sport for them?

I hope Mat and I don't end up like that in the future. I've believed, if you really value a friendship, or value whatever relationship Mat and I are in, that you would do anything and everything in your power to keep it from fading away. That is the exact thing I want to do, and half the reason why I need to fly to Canada very badly. I'd like to ask myself this question: Why am I always the one who messes up? The one who always messes everything up? I don't mean to nor do I want to. It feels as if the whole world hates me whenever I make stupid choices or act stupid. I only act stupid so they won't know the hurt I feel inside.

I'm glad I have you to confide in about the hurt. Even if you are just paper, you hear me out so well and don't reply back. I can cry out to you, and you wouldn't say anything. The silence and your comforting presence is what keeps me sane whenever I'm alone and need to let go. Back in my past entries, I explained how much of a wonderwall I am; well, according to Mat. I can't let him open my cracks, I can't let him see how I'm feeling inside or else he'll think I'm weak. I bet you anything he almost saw the weakness in me as he was leading me to the front door, before I flew back here. I didn't notice my eyes beginning to water until the door closed shut. You could assume his words pierced me deeply.

Before I forget, remember the man from Germany I told you about whom was becoming the center of discussion? I read in the newspaper article a small section dedicated to describing his background. He's an artist who's art was said to be half a whole over fair, but wasn't accepted. It showed one piece of his work and wow was it impressive. He must've tried enrolling in a university or academy of the sort. If he would show that here, he'd definitely strike an acceptance letter in the blink of an eye.

This should be enough for now. I'm flying to Canada in two days and need to finish gathering all of the necessities. I know Matthew won't be happy to see me, but he has no other choice but talk to me. How far could we go if he continues to ignore me? Not far. No where at all.

Your keeper, Alfred