Bear blog

In one of the books that was returned to the library yesterday I found a little letter someone had randomly written to themselves. He'd obviously stuck it in the book as a page marker and forgot all about it. I bet when he realised he started kicking himself because it was a really depressing letter. It was one of those cry-for-help type things that you're supposed to give up on when you hit 17. This lad was stressing that he couldn't cope with working a 30 hours job, doing 25 hours study, and spending time with his fiancee. He was moaning that his aunt had laughed at him when he suggested to her that he was under a lot of pressure.

I read it all through and then put it in the bin cause I didn't want anyone making fun of him. It's not the sort of thing someone comes back to collect anyway.

I wonder, would it make a difference to this bloke's life if he knew that someone had read what it was he'd wanted to say and had spent time thinking about him? I don't think anybody is ever as alone as they think they are. The human condition prevents it.