A year now has passed. Yes indeed,
8765 hours & lastly, if one was to count down to the last minute, they’d find that they’d counted 525948 minutes in all. All these calculations exact, never changing. These calculations nothing in comparison to the often fluctuating state I commonly found my heart in. In a years time, I have written out 21 pieces. 22, if we were to count this.
All these numbers, are starting to make my head spin, I could only imagine the thoughts in your head of the necessity of their spoken existence. What does this mean to you? Probably nothing, since you’ve stop reading past 8. Being that was the last I sent you.
In all my years worth of observations I’ve translated into these 21 short stories. I never wrote an apology for all that this has become. The life I’ve given to this experience on paperback as well as online. Ever so often, I pander about the fairness of this, of me writing. Everything so out there for anyone to read. Sincerely and honestly I apologize. For I’ve only known you to be private and keep to yourself. Though in all fairness I also ask that you take into account for everyone else also in this very predicament and the clarity this book and pieces will allow them. The healing and comfort they will take refuge in that they are not alone. Just mistaken as I found myself about the outcome of this ‘relationship’, one whose destiny you’d set in stone.
Thank you for the lifelong lesson I’ve now acquired through all the silence you’ve given me to clearly hear my own thoughts. But don’t be mistaken. These pieces labeled with your name have nothing to do with you, but I. Every piece compromised of every bit of my own memory, interaction, experiences and evaluations.
This last piece, labeled with your name just as you once jokingly requested I use. At the time I chuckled, mostly because I thought it was cute you suggested it. In trade of my smirk, instead I wished I told you that truthfully I had opted not to use your name because I didn’t know you. Everything written was my own observation of you from a distance, all which I’d gathered was in reflection of all I learned about you. The name I’d assigned as your alias, fake. Unlike this ending of everything as real, honest and candid as this long ago afternoon fling.