I don’t need to know if you were thinking about me or not when you were drinking your life away. I don’t need to know if you’re moving on or not. I’ve told you before, get some help. You don’t normally drink. And this is a path you don’t want to travel. Trust me. I’ve warned the bike guy you normally send not to drop any of your letters in my mailbox anymore. I know we made a pact when we were still together to preserve the tradition of letter writing, but you’re beginning to send these things like every day. And it’s not funny. You know I live closeby, right? So why not grow up and actually pay me a visit if you really want to talk?