Dear Jigs,
How does one pick up from where one left off when it's no longer a certainty when and where that is? I may have already found myself, yet memory is such a vast labyrinth where one can still occasionally get lost. In desperate need of a milestone, I inevitably proceeded to ransack my drawers. And there, heaped amongst scraps and pieces that have refused all these years to hatch oblivion lay a memoranda written at a time when the taints I wore were barely noticeable. Funny now that I never realized how all along, this was my map in pursuit of the elusive. But I guess I was then too inadequately equipped to navigate through it. As a result, I avoided it like a turbuent sea to prevent myself from drowning in its depths. Alas, I was doomed to spiral down a seemingly endless series of nearmisses until one day, I woke up with my world strewn about me in pieces. Still, the map remained accumulating cobwebs inside my drawer. In the process, I had to take the longest route possible to get to where I am now.
Now, my world is as good as new, fate has become kinder, and the map has chosen to resurface reminding me that yes, things do eventually fall into their proper and predestined places. In all the pointless chaos that is this letter, I really only have one thing I needed to come across: gratitude, the same as that expressed in the said map-memoranda. Gratitude that you waited on the sidelines while I go about getting my shit together. Gratitude for the map, notwithstanding my constant neglect, both of the map and our friendship. And gratitude for being polite to all previous statements. I know the whole thing is as tedious as a warm Hallmark greeting followed by a gun in the head. But hey, I never did say I changed for the better.
Anyway, I still owe you dinner for missing your birthday party last month. Do take me up on that the next time I'm there.
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