Dear Stranger,

Forgive me, I didn't mean to be rude. Let's just say I was paralyzed by the realization that we inhabit a rather cruel world- the fact that it's unintentionally cruel makes it even more unbearable. Strangers become friends and friends mutate into strangers. Do I believe in chance? I guess it depends on the context.

What lies behind the need to hide our identities? The fireworks of love fade out after a year or so- if you're lucky. Disillusionment follows; then what? Nothing is made to last in our precooked microwavable reality. The ever-present thirst for human contact remains unsatisfied.

Trust requires strength, and sometimes it's impossible to let the barriers down; sometimes it's simply a question of who will get hurt first. Still, there are no real winners or losers in this game, only painful scars and forsaken dreams and wasted moments.

There is no time for poetry on the path of self-deception. I don't think I expect you to return anymore. Who taught us to embrace sex as a means of communication? The future seems bright sometimes; then i delve deeper into the past.

Nostalgia has scarred our souls, so we dream of flying. Few things hurt more than the suspicion you might have nothing worthwhile left to say. Have you disappeared for good, or are you still listening? Your days are blessed with tenderness and warmth, yet you still manage to feel lonely.

There's a limit to what you should share as there's a limit to what you can keep hidden. I'm frightened that the spell will break. Do you still love the things you used to love, and do you ever miss me? Today I weep for the silences we'll never be able to fill.