To My Uncompromising Selves (first letter)

This might be our most personally significant Not Sent Letter to date.  It couldn’t have come any earlier.  Things have changed for us now, whether we like it or not.
For the time being, and despite your assumptions, I’m not under too much strain. My body isn’t what it used to be but things are comfortable enough.  No one is giving me an immediately unbearable time.  I even have bits of time for myself once and a while.  I haven’t become complacent.  I’m doing what needs to be done.  I am not refusing refusal.  I’ve become particularly selective out of necessity.  I have not been kidnapped or conditioned.  I haven’t succumbed to materialist temptations and careerist ambitions.  I haven’t chosen mod cons over love.  I am at peace with the decisions I’ve made and embrace my responsibilities.
I must demand that you recall your rescue parties.  Reign in the hounds.  There’s more at stake here than you could possibly know. Will we ever truly know ourselves anyway?  Catastrophe is unavoidable if you snatch me up.
Yes, you can still determine if I live or die. If my refusals and sacrifices, leading perhaps to my permanent absence, can make the world a better place, well then maybe I’d be OK with it, but I’ve gotten out of myself to some extent recently and no longer know the world to be singular.  I might fix one or several of them, through direct action costing my life, while destroying countless others in the process.  I won’t allow you to hurt those I love.
There is certainly a separate, private sphere, despite appearances.  It’s not what you think.  There’s nothing bourgeois about it.  It’s colonized by capital too (rather than being formed by it). I have two sons who need me — us.  They must survive the madness that you rail against.  We’re all in this together.
Please.  Always stay in touch.  There’s no need to shut down our lines of communication, but they need to work both ways.  You know I listen patiently.  I’m always sympathetic.  In fact, I’d hate myself if it weren’t for you.  Our interdependence is immutable.  You’re in an impossible position, I know, but that’s what ultimately gives you purpose.  Please recall your rescue parties.  The lights in my eyes, the rabid barking, the frustrated pleas, they only serve to torment and distract me now.  It’s too dangerous.  And for what?  Principle? Is that for you to decide?  Do the right thing.  We can learn to live together, for each other and beyond ourselves.
Imagine a future in which everyone manages what I’m asking of us.
With all my love,
jeremy