To Whom it May Concern...Again (An Excerpt From...)

So this is what it has come to. To writing you this letter. This letter, of which, I have no intention of seeing the light of day. This letter, of which, it is my intention to burn after saying what I have to say. And if through some miracle, through some lapse in thought or through some sort of carelessness on my part, your eyes do happen to chance upon this page, keep in mind that it was never my intention for you to read this. And that I am not writing to you but rather to some version of you that I have conjured up in my head. A version of you that will not laugh at what I am about to set out to say. A version of you that will not cringe, will not pity nor feel sorry, regretful or remorseful.
We made the right decision. Even if it was a coup on my part. Even if I did shove it down your throat.
But that is not to say that it has been easy. A depression has descended upon me like a fog. It is a battle even to get out of bed in the morning. But don't feel sorry for me. I will pull through. Today is a good day. In fact, Mo is coming over. He says he knows just what I need. No doubt a night of drunken debauchery. Anonymous women, sloppy kisses in dark corner booths and even darker corners. Probably not the best solution but he thinks he's helping. And you know Mo, when he gets it in his head to do something, he doesn't let up until he has done it. And so i'll give him his chance at bat, his day in court; even though to me the chance of success is minimal, it's just comforting to know that he cares.
Peter too. They've been incredibly understanding through this entire thing. But enough about that. Mo will be here any moment and this is the last thing I would want him to find me writing. I guess I'll get to burning you later. And when I say “you” I mean the letter, not you. Well, I have to run. It's been um...interesting conjuring you up,


As always,


Lloyd.