Letter to a friend


hat's up Mike,

I was just writing you this rambling ass letter but I'm adumbass and accidentaly erased it so I'm starting another one and god damn this is a long sentence. Anyways, I was expounding on how fucking profound the struggles of good men seem to be, and that I try to embrace these struggles because they are very human. I was saying how I'm talking to two women, and both have their own fucking issues, and things always get more complicated then I want but I'm a bitch so I keep trying because hard men need soft things to comfort them and here's a long sentence too.

Seems to me that struggling with things like these make us very human, and these are struggles that good men endure because we have the ability to put pride aside and say we fucking need something or someone in our lives. In fact, I believe that's what makes us good men. And if these struggles make us good men, then they bring us closer to our idea of god and that in turn is special because men like us seem to have no god, and all we can hope for is that we follow our hearts and minds and hope for that we make our mark in this small piece of our existence.

I don't know, at times I feel foolish Mike. Why would I do what I do? I've chosen sides, and in doing so and becoming one of the crowd in a sense, even though I strive to stay aloof in a manner of speaking. But it seems that the things we do are so trivial and pointless, and we should just live, and I want to meet women and laugh and swim and go to movies and read books and drive with the top down smoking a joint and wash my car in the driveway on a hot day and call up my friends for a barbeque and go to the gym and run my fingers through a woman's hair and all the other shit we do but take for granted. But then the true injustice of the human heart explodes into our perfect little worlds and smashes our perceptions of humanity and twists it into something evil and worthy of destruction and why must it be like this. Tell me why I would want to kill someone, why I would want a war? And of course I can't answer that question, and all I can do is say that's how it is. The thought of war makes me fucking tremble with anticipation, and then I question whether or not it's something I truly want, and all I can say is GIVE ME A FUCKING WEAPON, and I just want to scream like an animal and see the world burn because it's so damn complicated. But then after this fit of whatever I feel foolish for feeling it, and then feel guilty for not embracing my feelings, then I think I'm thinking to much someone give me a beer damn this sentence is weird. I don't know. After I let that go I feel a strange peace and all I can think of is the need for something soft to fall back on. But see, this is why things get complicated with women, same old story lemme tell you.

I'm talking with this girl. She looks at my eyes. Then she asks me the same old line, "What's going on behind your eyes?" or some variation. I tell her she doesn't want to know, nor do I have the time. Eventually the mother fucker is going to get what she asks for, and she's going to think damn that's complicated I'm scared OMG! So then I tell the bitch, if you don't want to know about my feelings don't ask, because I don't want to tell you. I'm a simple man with complicated feelings, and I prefer to keep things simple, so if you don't want to know don't ask because I will tell you and you won't like it. So then things start getting fucked up like muffler bearings and it's silly and I feel foolish for getting worked up and mad at this bitch because she's so weak minded and get's scared so easily and why can't I meet a strong woman damn I'm bad with english. So then she asks me why I'm mad and we start the cycle over and I'm suddenly tired of talking about it.

I don't know Mike. You've got something good, and there's no need to ever feel silly or foolish because you are without a question doing great things. You're reaching out and manipulating the things around you and that seperates you. I don't know, sometimes I wonder if I'm doing what I'm doing for the right reasons, but I think because I maintain that level of introspection that I can only be doing good things as long as I vow to keep poison and evil and perversion out of my mind and heart. I may kill my enemy, and then I will weep for the dark depths of humanity. I will kill him mercilessly, but I'm not without compassion and mercy. I will put my life on the line, but I fear death and I fear pain. Or perhaps I'm wrong and I won't deliver. Maybe I'm fooling myself and I'll freeze up at go time. No man can say for sure. Or maybe on the other side of the coin, I'll kill well and love it and loose myself in it and never return. Why have we, as people of good conscience with minds like ours, fight and die and not be happy? I'm tired of these women and feeling so confused about god and life but I would never have it any other way.

Fuck it, life is fucked. Think I've rambled enough, this one goes in the books my friend. Talk to you soon.