This is hard to write. But it has to be said eventually.

I'm giving up.

I've spoken with Janet Jones; I will be failing all three of my courses this semester, and not enrolling for Spring 2003. My American adventure will be coming to an abrupt end on December 17th.

I haven't made this decision lightly. I could probably scrape through this semester, and come back for Spring, but I know that I'll just have the same problems as before. The only reason to stay is Pride. I don't want to be seen as a failure. That's not a good enough reason.

The truth is that I don't want to have more panic attacks that leave me almost paralysed for five minutes; I don't want to lie awake at night worrying how I'm going to do all the things I need to get done.

Aw. What a sad thing to happen to the spoilt white kid. He got everything he wanted, including an almost all-expenses paid stay in America, and he's got the nerve to whine because he has to do some work?

I'm sorry. I can't carry on. Everytime I press a key, I start to cry. I know I've failed. I know that I don't deserve to be here. I want to be strong and carry on, but it's too much, and it's not going to get better. Surely it's better to admit that I made a mistake and come home rather than try and tough it out, isn't it?

I don't know what I'm going to do. I've spent so many years on computers. But I don't like them. I have no intuition for them. I don't want to spend the rest of my life working with them. But what else can I do? I came here because I thought that I could get interested again. That things would work out. But they haven't. I don't know what I want to do. But I can't stay here.