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We've hardly talked in the past decade or two. It seems that you deal with me only when you have to. I don't know why that is. Any guesses would be mental masturbation. Maybe someday you will tell me what I did. Maybe you never will.
Yes, I've found your identities on the Internet. Yes, I've looked up anything you've made public in order to have a bit of a feeling for where your passions have led you. I am thrilled by your recent successes.
I was disheartened to find that in your college years you were drinking and shoplifting. By your own account, you were buying from several liquor stores so that way "they wouldn't think [you were] an alcoholic." You organized shoplifting parties among your friends on weekends. I held my breath, hoping for some indication that you grew out of these things.
By your recent report, you are feeling much better than you used to. You've quit drinking and smoking. [Was it cigarettes? Or weed? Or?]. You've shaped up and started taking better care of yourself. I feel both happy and sad at this news.
Pictures of wedding dressings and nurseries. A sense that I have been disposed of along with your ex and your bad habits. It's alright I guess.
Dad is getting closer to the end. You've already moved on in ways that I cannot understand. I too had a stepfather that I loved. [He died awhile back]. We are so different-- you and I-- yet something in you and something in me we both got from Dad. Please don't forget him as you continue on your orbit to the sun.
Even if we never connect, I wish you the very best in your life. I hope that you will find more of what you are seeking. Most of all, I wish you peace.
~ the forgotten one ~