I wrote a letter to a dear friend many years ago. Intentions of this notion are remembered as if yesterday, although the detailed context may always remained out of focus. The solo connection to our past required a final idea, an attempt of communication despite the fact those words would never be read. I sealed the envelope and tucked it safely within his wooden casket shortly after his passing. Eighteen years ago today, the song ended.

Isolation can prove itself somewhat effective, a simple remedy applied to the hardships of human interaction. Could it be the emotional strain of loneliness that leads us to amity? After all, life-spans tend to vary in large distance, but for most, expectancy is statistically greater. Theoretically, a lengthy duration could leave the individual compelled to make closer connections. These infliction are most likely due to the result of phycology, biology and nature. Empathetic ties are created, beauty and laughter are shared, and moments of devastation and desperation are willingly supported.

Upon recent tragedy, safety was feared unattainable. A vital exit could not be achieved. Nevertheless, through the terrifying barricade of shock and disillusion, the transmission of a simple promise was received. Comforting actions and reactions were derived from a few choice individuals. As this rarity flourished, my ideals began the reconstruction of unconditional love, trust and honesty. The devotion towards an immediate sense of urgency has been embedded within my heart and mind, indefinitely. Perhaps it is the guardians fundamental fear of closure that has kept me alive today. Regardless of motive, it is to my wish that the extension of gratitude be considered sincerely endless.

Where the fuck was I eighteen years ago?