I am not comfortable writing in 1st person, but I am willing to play around with it a little! This is really short, but I know I can come back to it.
POV - 1st person exercise. Walking a difficult letter to the mailbox.
Start Fiction:
I have attempted this walk eleven times before; eleven months of being chicken, backing out, a cowherd. I thought it would eventually get easier to take this step, but now as the months as passed, it has proven to be my most difficult challenge.
I can't decide if it is more I am afraid it will make things worse, or if I simply don't deserve to ask for forgiveness. The way I left her, the state I was in, was just pathetic. I didn't realize at the time how out of control my drinking was; how altered my thinking was, delusional my thoughts were.
Dr. Frankel thought I could simply call, email or stop by, but I can't bring myself to call or shoot her an email; both seem so impersonal. However, it's not as though I can knock on her door, either. I can't afford gas money let alone a way to get to Denver.
I don't know why I feel like this will make a difference, if at all. It's probably more just to make myself feel better, and maybe that's why Dr. Frankel is making me do this, write this letter.
Come on, only a few feet from the mailbox! Damn, why can't I get myself to mail a silly letter? Hannah might not even read my letter, so sending it or not could be a mute issue.
Yeah, where's the pressure there? I am freaking out for no reason, she'll probably burn it as soon as she sees my handwriting. I can't do more than this and now I will put in all in Hannah's hands, literally.
Here it goes, opening the mailbox and... Gone.
Deep breath, deep breath.
It sure is a nice fall day. I could go for pancakes.
End Fiction.
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