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i can't any more.

Dude, I dont' know what even to write, think or feel anymore. Mike...you would be so fucking pissed. I assume pissed enough to buy a ticket to DC and strap youself to a big ass bomb and wait for Mitch M to leave his fucking serpentnest and run up to him and pull the trigger. And the thing is: that wouldn't fix it. Sure, it would stun the snake for a minute, but these MAGA loons are all getting elected. We were, unfortunately, right. The planet is filled with too many goddamn idiots, and I am not kidding when I tell you: it's the internet's fault. Sad, really, that Humanity, resented with access for everyone to all the information decides to eat it's own shit. I mean, for fuck's sake. Oh, and your kid has decided they are a boy, and damn if they don't look just like you (but with the mother's hair, of course). I can't stop following her mom because I am so curious about how things unfold. That being said, as I was driving to work yesterday, I was overwhelmed by a wave of realization that you are still really gone. Just not ever gonna call out of the blue again. Never going to shoot me a text or a dm out of nowhere. Never gonna ask me for a favor. Never gonna call to invite me to fuck whoever it is you are currently in a destructive relationship with. It's hard sometimes to admit this, though I feel like I have gotten better about it, but you were a touchstone for me and without you, it's as if so much just never really happened. There's no one to talk to about all of it. Except Karen, and even she doesn't know all of it. I barely remember all the things that happened in Jamaica. Or the trip we took to Virgina that I have pictures of, but literally zero memories of. Getting old is so fucking odd. Not hard, really, just strange. Because the longer I live the less I remember. My mom is scaring the shit out of me mike. Last weekend while I was staying at her house, she got up in the middle of the night and was cursing god, saying "Why won't you take me?" and "I can't even die (right)" it fucking freaked me right the hell out. I do not want to go out like that man. I want to remember all the hilarity, the grit, the pain, the pleasure, as much as I can. I keep hoping that the sheer variety in my life will mean that I'm more adaptable to the whole experience than she's been, and that I will be able to roll around int he memories I have right up to the end, and then with any luck when my ticker finally calls it quits, I will see Hopey running up to me and you, Bircho, Ken, Mia and everyone else will all welcome me into the show. Sure, it will just be my brain protectively shutting me down, but lets hope it goes well. Or if it is painful, with any luck I'll see you reaching out to me to...oh hell, nope. I can't imagine I'll hallucinate you helping me...that's probably gonna be a big heap of BB. Who still, from time to time haunts my dreams. Unrequited love is a bitch.

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