An open letter to an imaginary old friend or lover or something.

Hey you,

I do not want to spend the first few paragraphs of this defining things. Where we been; what we did; all of that. That's messy. That's painful....although I also know these things will move in us with or without acknowledgment, and I know that there is very little as painful as old joy.

You know what I learned? I learned that the only thing that matters is time. I'll tell you, when I was a kid the great big taboo in Reagan's America was drug use. That moment before you smoke cocaine for the first time, man, you imagine the person you're going to be after....but you don't change. You're the same guy. You just smoked a rock.

Odd, but the whole fall is like that. It's like losing your virginity a couple dozen times. You think this will hurt, or this will leave some sort of permanent mark, but it doesn't, it's just one more step down. Nothing. No big deal.

Don't get me wrong, the good things mean just as little. You think this will make me the guy who accomplished ____ thing. And you are - for the night. For the week if you get really big or really lucky.

It's called despair, B___, and it's our only way out of this. Sounds messed up, but we realize that we are who we are and we're capable of anything. That time kills and heals and we decide every damn minute which thing we are and what kind of thing we're going to be. Every decline is gradual, every incline a long walk and if we're someone or something's plaything...well, we chose that, too.

I miss you. I've thought about you a lot. I promised myself I'd be cool and not say anything, but it's true. Y'know, I've never been particularly cool.

I guess I'm saying we change. It's slow. It's so slow we don't really notice it, but one day you take a minute to step back and you think; but you don't think about the dreams you have or where those went. You don't think about who you are anymore, you don't wonder 'bout that and you don't describe. Nope, man, you're not even thinking that after all of this time you turned back into the animal you were born as. you're just thinking about when you'll get a good night's sleep.

You're bitching about things because that's all you know. It's a hundred dollars out the door here and then another hundred on this bill and "where's it all going?" and "what's it all for?".

the thing is you don't care about the answer and you lost faith in an antidote.

Once in a while it hits you that it should hurt. It hits you that you're 'sposed to be indignant instead of just belly achin.

I think I mentioned that I missed you, didn't I B_____? If I didn't I shoulda, but if I'm going to be completely honest I just don't have the energy to miss you that much anymore. I don't wanna a talk about what we missed or who we coulda been or anything. You look great. Sure, the light's out of your eyes and you're probably as dead as I am and as numb to it as I am, but you look great, really, Marraige agrees with you.

We don't even sin very big anymore. Stuff is just kinda dirty or something you hide a little. Not becuause you'll hurt someone or get arrested or wreck the honeymoon or anything, you just don't wanna hear it.

Ahhh, I'm bitching, Y'know. Sorry for that. I just wanted to say that I missed you and you look great. Happy.

Well, write back if you wanna, otherwise..

Take Care,


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