Oso,

I’ve gotta say, these emails are starting to sound a bit demanding. The last time I heard from you was over three months ago. Remember? You wanted everyone to stop asking you so many questions. And now this, a one line email that says only … now let’s see, I’ve got it around here somewhere … ahh yes, “dear world, please tell everyone to chill the fuck out.”

Oso … tsk tsk, is this how you treat a friend? Come on bro, it would be nice to hear from you when things are looking up as well. You live in one of my nicest corners. Why not the occasional note about the fine looking females or the year-long summers.

Not only that, but you’re just asking me to repeat myself. Remember what I told you in regards to all those questions people were asking you? You’ve just got to be prepared. Now, I’ve been keeping my eyes on you and you’re doing fine. I see you when you walk into Rubio’s these days: “Hi, I’d like the three fish tacos combo with a regular drink rather than paying just ten cents extra for a large drink and my order is for here, my name is David even though you will type in Damian, and I already know that the salsa bar is to my left so you can save your breath.” Sure, so you had to add a few syllables, but the point is that you were able to make the change from within.

Now listen, you know how much that Hispanic Pundit prick pisses me off, but really, the doofball has got a point: you liberals, you’re always whining about others instead of examining yourselves. My question isn’t why should everyone else chill the fuck out, it’s, ‘why is this coming up right now?’ Why is mister happy-go-lucky himself getting so bothered all of a sudden?

Now, I’ve been taking some notes, so if you’d stop interrupting and let me make my points … First of all, you only play if it’s your game. What I mean by that is you want everything to be light, witty sarcasm. The only way you know how to talk about the profound is with profanity. And when you do it, it’s always at arm’s length. “Love hurts” is an easy statement for you my freckly bear, but how often do you say “I hurt”?

Once someone tries to actually engage you, what do you do? You disengage. When you can no longer get away with absurdity you turn silent and forlorn. Either that or it’s your favorite bullshit excuse: “I really need a lot of alone time to think and reflect.” Ie. “I don’t want to deal with this right now.” You know what I call that Mister Maturity? I call that emotional immaturity. You’re 25 years old and you don’t know how to communicate your own feelings. Worse yet, I don’t think you even know how to feel them.

Oso, really, please stop with the interruptions. Sure, I understand what you’re saying. What’s the big deal about “being serious” or “communicating your feelings” or analyzing life. And yes, I agree, we all wind up six feet deep. But, let’s remember here, you’re the one who wrote to me asking that everyone chill the fuck out. And that’s just the point. You need to be in touch with others, not just your fancy shmancy, ironic literary journals. You need to make concessions for them. I mean, here’s a news bulletin for you buddy, when someone’s your friend for more than three or four years, they sorta expect to get closer to you … you know? But you never let them. And your constant joking around starts to wear on them. Surely you see it in their eyes. They just want you to be … well, you. But the real worrisome thing is that you don’t even know who that is.

And this is why I am drawing this out. Because I feel like this is a developmental stage in your life. I feel like you are stepping into the shoes of a new chapter. And that you’ve successfully found a way to act as a relayer of conversations without ever looking in at yourself. Without taking the time to be comfortable with your past and your own identity. It’s a convenient pretext … and I hope you don’t take it. Suerte my friend,

World

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