I'm just looking for self realization.

I don't think I quite understood that phrase a mere four years ago. Age is deceptive.

Somehow a combination of things left me teetering on an antique chair (that adopted residence in my room whilst I was in SA) reaching into the depths of my closet to find that manila envelope. You know, the one I've probably written about before.

Each time I pull it out (which, mind you, is not often at all) a wave of insistent realization comes over me. But the odd thing is that none of it was actually real. I flipped through newspaper clippings, photos, venue ads, 18+ after party invites, letters, saved conversations, a bracelet, torn journal entries. And I wonder to myself.... SFB1, where are you now? Remember when you were going to go to law school? (but you fucked that one up.) Remember when you apologized to me? (but you fucked that one up too.)

I still have difficulty comprehending the way that something that felt so real does not exist as something that was a reality in my memory. (does that make any sense?)

So SFB1, I guess the point is that I still sometimes wonder where you are and what you're up to.

And also, sometimes, I really want to rub it in your face how much you fucked up.