what if i wrote a letter? perhaps there is no reason for it because i find myself out of words. i thought really hard about all the things i wanted to say and found that, once again, i have no excitement for telling any of them. it's exhausting trying to pull out stories and anecdotes that become kind of tossed aside for no particular reason. i find that things which are present just for the sake of being there have no real purpose. i don't get it. i don't think i ever will.

so we're done, right?