There were once two friends.
They wrote to each other via electronic mail.
One wrote letter and sent it.
The other accidentally deleted it.
Murder.
The first waited and waited for the second to reply.
The second waited and waited for the first to write the letter they had already sent.
And they never spoke again.
They didn’t even attend each other’s funerals.
Murder.
This was especially sad because it was not the way things were supposed to turn out.
There were all sorts of adventures mapped out for them to do together.
But those adventures stayed in the place where things-that-haven’t-happened-yet live.
How many things haven’t-happened-yet in your life?
Piles of hot air balloon rides,
road trips across Germany
and all night telephone calls
might not-be-happening-yet.
Murder.
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We also create a lot of little futures each day in a Karmic balance.
I laughed, loudly, at the first paragraph.
And then shivered at the rest.
You make me feel dead Rhys, because you are so alive and useful.
But hopefully i can put this feeling through cheese grater and turn it into motivation for becoming somebody i glimpse out of the corner of my eye.
I miss your you-ness.
xxx