A/N: Pam has just come home from art school. Sorry this took so long. It hasn't been my best week.
Dear Jim,
I'm so glad to be home. I will admit—I missed you. When I figured out that I had failed my computer class, I was so upset. I felt like a failure at everything—not just the class, but also a failure at living here, and an even bigger failure at being your fiancée. All I could think about was how terrible I was at life, and how I would be a receptionist for the rest of my life because apparently I can't do anything else.
Then, of course, I thought about you. You would never have let me think like that, not even for a second. You would tell me that I'm an excellent artist (even though I'm really not, Jim. You should see some of my classmates' work. I'm pathetic) and that you love every painting and sketch that I've made. You wouldn't let Dwight tell me that the shadows are wrong on my watercolors, you would just remind me of the time I won an art contest—all by myself, right here, in Scranton, Pennsylvania.
You would tell me about how the animation for the Dunder Mifflin ad was perfect, even though I had to stay up all night to finish it. There was no one to bring me breakfast in New York, Jim. And maybe I'm just incredibly spoiled, but I couldn't stay there without that. I'm not a morning person! I couldn't stand waking up in the noisy, crowded city. It sounds good, but when you compare it to waking up with our limbs entangled, your face pressed into my hair... Well, it just can't compare. Nothing can compare.
I'm also good at dealing with Michael, most of the time. Sometimes, I like to think of that patience as an indicator of how I'm going to act as a parent. And then I realize that I'm basically pretending Michael is my son, and I shudder, gag, and return to work. But that's a skill, right? It's definitely something that most other people don't have. Maybe I'm getting a little desperate.
Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that I'm really glad I didn't stay in New York. Design opportunities aren't really that great in New York anyway. It's too dirty, too busy, and ultimately, it's not for me. Alex was a great friend, but just so you know? Best friends are way more fun than just great friends. That's like basic playground rules.
Love,
Pam