July 26, 2016
talk to me
I was going to write a letter to you- the third of many. It seems like every year I have to say something. I miss you. Where are you? I miss you. What am I really missing?
I suppose I need to pass on to the phase where I really shouldn’t give a damn. I actually don’t give a damn, but nostalgia has a funny way of creeping up on you right when you least want it. Thanks for the memories, but go on ahead and let me regret too. The would have’s. The could have been’s. The what-ifs. I know I’m a different person now, an off shoot of what I imagined myself to be. I like me now too. But somehow, no matter what I do, I can’t forget you.
I also can’t ignore the word: catfish.
You’ll end up being a figment of my imagination. The tormented soul with a gift for prose. Alive or dead? Hope you had fun.
And happy birthday. It will be my last gift to you.