I hope this virtual nonsense finds you, in good health or otherwise,
I can’t recall exactly why I started this series of letters to you, but allow me to make some educated guesses. Was it because I willed you to be the future me? Was it because I wished to tell the truth to someone beyond the truth of my mask and you were the chosen one for the task? or was it my thirst for understanding company? All the stories are valid and applicable on the recent past of what I assume to be a very satisfying human connection.
In the former lies the present predicament, Since I started realizing my illusions, I recognize that we’re merely similar but not alike, and my longing for it to be different won’t make it so. I am also no longer able to spew the full truth as the current circumstances of our social presence and my recent nostalgic affliction prevent.
Henceforth, the why of these letters are not longer present. Yet, I write and I write because I am not longer able to convey my demons to you directly, especially when they don’t have a specific significance.
I don’t know if I’ll pursue the end of this story or not, for the end of the why is not necessarily the why of the end, not that it matters.
You have demons of your own, you have your own thought process, a past of your own, a present of your own and your walls are standing firmly erect, so be well, be beautiful or just be, for the lowly friend in me.
There is no point. I am only talking.