Part 8 of 9

(Edited 12/1/2023)

Well, we’ve come to the “end” of this message for you.

But it’s not the end of us.

Even as I’ve written this to you, there’s been thoughts that I couldn’t shake about you. Because I know who you are in that world. Just a barge of toxicity that you didn’t deserve from many angles. One that will take this as an elaborate prank and toss it all away.

But you’re still here. Waiting for me to tell you the winning lottery numbers, or hand you a sports almanac so you can build an empire in your hometown, running it to the ground in a way you know I’m referencing. That would be something our parents would care about.

What I’m telling you is more valuable, more respectable to pass on than any amount of money. Not saying that money isn’t important, but you’ll come to remind people of that in ways that will surprise you.

To take this long and often uncomfortable way to tell you that things get better has been great for me.

That’s an understatement.

It’s cathartic.

The lighthouse in a decade’s deep fog.

Even some friends who won’t completely relate to this will understand why this is important to do. Among many other reasons, it’s because tomorrow isn’t promised. And to leave this world without others knowing what was stirring in you for so long is not a good look. But as I’ve said before, not everyone gets the chance to speak out. For one reason or another.

But look at me, taking that chance. Aside from other inspirations I mentioned, this move was inspired by a hybrid of current friends that also took that chance in a more physically published format. I couldn’t wait that long to speak to you or myself like this. Not saying that it isn’t out of the question since there’s more worth sharing.

In the end, you’ll have to pretend like you knew nothing about what I’ve told you. You’ll have to swallow the poison for years, either in drops or in buckets. You’ll have to endure a reality that I’ve only implied on. Living through things that you wish you hadn’t, and some points I’m still learning how not to be hurt by.

You may want to, or succeed in, rejecting it, but take this as proof that you mass produced the antidote. It won’t work on you now, and parts of me wished it did. But sometimes the strongest cures come from years of trials and errors.

You won’t be perfect. Besides, sometimes perfection is subjective, if not non-existent altogether. But you will be better that what you are, and what you feel now. Enough to sit back, gather your notes together, and leave behind a word that will catalyze the healing. Enough to share with trusted ears, professionals that can constructively critique your viewpoints, and finally the world.  

Until we meet again. Thanks for listening.

“…and Danzai Burst.”

The End…?

Part 7, Finale.