1.01.2008

Oh, okay.

S--
You've got to be kidding me.

We searched for you unmercilessly, left letters through the mailslot at
your mom's house, and googled you to the point of nonsensicalness. You
disconnected your phone, deleted your myspace page, and then didn't call
me or respond to the many e-mails I sent previously to this address or
your school address--and now? WTF, Shaun, you were my best friend, and
six months later I get an address and an initial? Are you fucking
serious?
Everytime I walk by Cocoa Bella, I get teary, which sucks, because it's
next door to my job. Mary and I cried on the phone together for weeks.


We literally were beginning to think you were dead, and have mourned
for you for months. You have no idea what we assumed what must have
happened for you to not have talked to us for so long.

You must understand that we came to the point with you that we figured
you must have looked for us as much as we looked for you--and so must
not want to see us. Fuck, this sucks. I love you, and yet I hate what
you've done to us--I thought the worst, and furthermore, I should be
expected to under such circumstances.

Shaun, No one has ever, EVER, done something so selfish to me as you
have--so I'm sure that you can see I deserve at least some kind of
explanation.

I'll leave you with this--who are you with this New Years Eve? My guess
is that barring your relatives, there is no one surrounding you who
loves you as much as I did. Sit on that for a minute.

Then think about what it must feel like to think that someone you love
dearly hates you or is dead or dying or uncommunicative to a fault.

I don't know what to say anymore except that I will call Mary and tell
her you're seemingly okay. Hopefully, she'll stop crying now.
Unfortunately, I just started. Again.

--M

p.s. to RCU: Call me as soon as you read this. Day or night. I miss you and need to be grounded.