Dear Robert,  

Where to begin?  I have so many things that I want to say to you but I'm not entirely that words can ever be enough to convey what I have to say.  So I shall begin with two.  Just two little words that will never be enough but that will have to do.  

Thank You. 

Seeing them written down, they don't mean much but I will attempt to explain what those two words mean.  Let me start at the beginning.  

My life is a truly unremarkable one compared to others, especially compared to yours.  I am nothing and no-one of any great importance.  No-one will ever write a book about my life (except perhaps me just for shits and giggles), or make a film about my existence; I'm simply just not that interesting.  The universe does not care about me or what I have to say but I'm going to say it anyway.  

Having been diagnosed with manic depression at the age of 16, I turned to the bottle a year later in an attempt to numb the pain and emptiness that depression brings.  When that failed, I turned to self harm.  I'm not proud of it but I did.  Anything to distract myself from the mental agony of being trapped in my own head.  The physical pain of self harming gave me a pain that I could physically see rather than just knowing that it was all in my head.  The drinking increased, as did the self destructive behaviour until at the age of 22, my doctor informed me that if I didn't stop, I wouldn't see my 23^rd birthday.  In the harsh liht of those words, I had to assess my life:  A slow and painful death by my own hand or start again and carve a better life for myself.  I could carry on as I was and probably meet my end drowning in a sea of booze, drugs and prison, or I could grab my addiction by the balls and make it my bitch.  I chose the latter and I was checked into rehab.  If memory serves, we were both in rehab only a few months apart. And that leads me on to the entire point of this letter. 

I've been a follower of your work since seeing Weird Science at the age of 7 (I thought your hair was AMAZING in that film by the way) and I've always tried to go and see your latest films as and when they come out.  My own downward spiral mirrored yours to a certain extent so when I found out about your own stay in rehab, it gave me hope that I wasn't alone.  Even someone that I admire so much from afar can have their own issues and demons to contend with.  Fame and fortune cannot cure an affliction like mental illness or addiction.  In fact, it probably made it that little bit worse. To have your every move documented by the press must have made everything all the more difficult. 

And then I watched as your star began to rise once more and shine brighter than ever.  That gave me the hope that I so desperately needed.  Knowing that you were beating similar odds helped me to latch on to that fragile ember of battered self belief and what inner strength that remained, left alone and forgotten amid the darkness and desolation that addiction and depression leave in their wake.  I reached into that darkness and pulled that ember towards the light.  I cherished it and nurtured it until it became the fire it is today.  It may not be burning particularly bright or fiercely but it's a damn good start.  And knowing that you were doing the same filled me with the knowledge that thingsCAN and WILL get better.  

When I read that you were to play Tony Stark, I was overjoyed.  Anthony and I have had an on again/off again relationship since I was 7, about the time I saw Weird Science for the first time (a coincidence? An omen?)  Tony's Demon In A Bottle storyline struck a deep and personal cord with me (well, aside from the genius, billionaire, playboy parts).  Long before Iron Man being made into a film was even a possibility, I have always pictured you in the role.  Whether or not that's because there are so many similarities between you both or just because you actually look alike I couldn't say.  It's just always been your face I pictured as Tony.   

 This all leads me to say that I am so fiercely proud of you, which is ridiculous because I don't even know you.  All I see from the outside is the you from interviews and magazine articles.  How can I be proud of someone I don't know?  What I do know is this: I'm unbelievably proud of someone I've admired for years who also suffers from a similar mental illness and a past addiction.  Someone who, despite the odds, beat his demons and won and who keeps on winning. A person who now gets to play Iron Man, a character loved the world over by children and adults alike.  I often employ my 'Tony Stark Media Face' to get me through some tough situations and I won't lie: it's kinda fun to take on that persona sometimes so I can only imagine what it must be like for you.  

I would also like to thank your amazing wife Susan.  I know what a huge part she has played in your recovery and she is a wonderful and extraordinary woman.  Whenever I see the two of you together on the red carpet, my heart sings with the joy I have for the pair of you.  Never doubt that the love you two so obviously have for each other is contagious.  I could certainly feel it when I was at the Iron Man 3 première in London and I left with a huge grin on my face because of it.  It's a rare, rare thing.  Should you ever actually read this, give Susan a hug, a kiss and a thank you from me.  She is a force to be reckoned with and one of a kind.  

I'd also like to ask that the next time you see a certain Jeremy Renner, throw a thank you his way too.  He's been as much a part of my life as you have since I was in rehab.  I've followed his work and his progress as closely as yours.  His outlook on life has got me through some dark times and his philosophy on making sure that fear is not a part of hi slife has helped me make some tough choices over the years.  You've both been an amazing influence and two pillars of strength when I need something to lean on.  

And so, here ends my story.  I hope that you do somehow get to read this.  I can only imagine the amount of letters that you must get. You must have touched so many people's lives over the years that I'm sure this letter will lie lost and forgotten beneath a mountain of others just like it.  I just felt the pull to put down on paper just what you mean to me and how you have been such an integral part of my life for so long.  You're an inspiration and an anchor point and for that I am  thankful. I even named my cat after you: Robert Meowney Jnr (Bob for short).  I know how much you love cats and thought you’d find that highly amusing.  

Now, I've waffled on for quite long enough.  If you happen to read this then I apologise for having to read something that you have probably seen a million times before.  Having written this letter, I've even started to put my life down on paper.  It's surprisingly therapeutic and it might even help me find some of those ever elusive answers.  Or not.  I've learnt to just go wherever life takes me.  Here's hoping it's somewhere interesting!  

So, from the woman with red and yellow hair at the London Iron Man 3 première that thrust a copy of Fur at you for you to sign, thank you.  Thank you from the bottom of my battered and bruised heart.  You have quite possibly saved my life on more than one occasion and for that there will never be enough or the right words to convey my thanks.  Just know that whenever you're having a bad day, there is someone across the pond that is very glad you're here on this godforsaken chunk of rock floating around the sun.  You make each day just that little bit brighter and a little easier to cope with.  You are a wonderful, funny, compassionate, inspiring and amazing human being. Don’t ever stop being you.  

Thank you.  

With all my best wishes, love and squidgy hugs,  

Lucy