To Whom It May Concern,

To whom it may concern,

The days of wine and roses are over. The sun no longer shines for us; in fact, I don’t believe it ever actually did. Today is the first day of the rest of your life. Rather, it is the last day of the best of your life. Actually, yesterday was the last day. Today is the first day of the steady uphill trudge that is to be your daily grind from now on.

We’ve had a good run, but every good thing must eventually come to an end. It was good while it lasted, and so on. We spin so many lines to describe the terrible events that no one wants to admit were actually that terrible (yet in which we fully immersed ourselves anyway in some vain attempt at happiness), but now I can move on to explaining to you how this new game works, as the old one has come to a bitter and crashing halt.

First and foremost you must forego any attempts at self-flattery, adulation, and the achievement of happiness as you once knew it. The ghost of bliss we once easily recognized in the glow of kisses and steaming coffee has found shelter in more obscure places, creeping in through the cracks in the walls that were listening when we told the world how it ends—abruptly and without reason. Where there once was a soft and happy glow subtly illuminating the world so we could see it all at once, there now are just spotlights here and there, serving their purpose of illuminating singular moments of clear joy and cruelly creating a deafening darkness in the meantime, one through which we stumble and often fall. But just as we pitch ourselves unwittingly into the holes we also climb out into lovely moments once in a great while. These are the dreams which keep us walking.

Secondly, you will grow to expect that no man or woman outside of your own soul will ever be able to support you in times of great spiritual need. Not your mother, your father, or the person with whom you spend every waking moment, the one that you think about when you fall asleep and again when you rise, the one about whom you dream while Moon laughs down at you. This is not to say that any one of these people does not want to help, it is just that they are generally standing too close to be privy to the vision of your crumbling. By the time you come to this point your grievances will be hidden at the bottom of a chest cloaked in the dust of so many years of wakeful stillness, and the bright pain of them will only present as the smallest pinprick of light to those outside. And while we all wish to find the soul mate that distinguishes this one light from the rest, most of us will never recognize our rescuers.

To be continued,