She already knew what the contents would be: “I’m suicidal, being destroyed by life, I’ve no hope for the future, I don’t know how I can keep getting up every day, blah blah.” All beautifully written.
She had already written back twice in response to these missives. Brian never responded. Not even to acknowledge receipt. She was starting to feel like God in the joke about the guy praying to win the lottery, who never won. One day, frustrated, he mouthed off at God. And God said: “Buy a ticket, schmuck!”