Once upon a time you found us floundering, unable to make heads or tails of the strange, alien world we found ourselves in.
We were simple, lost and confused, yet you sheltered us from our bestial nature and taught us about striving for perfection. Although we have failed abysmally to reach anything remotely like that sublime target you directed us towards, we have nonetheless grown to a point where we must exercise our atrophying limbs - we have to try to make it on our own.
Just to see if we can.
Maybe we'll come back. Maybe sooner, maybe later. If we do, our return will signify that we were always yours and that we choose to belong to you.
If we don't? Perhaps we were never yours. We certainly haven't been particularly well behaved and neighbourly *with* your shackles on.
Please don't take it too hard! We still love you... You've just been a bit demanding of late.
We can still be in touch - I don't want to lose you as a friend.
How about a drink next Friday night? No? What about Sunday? You don't drink anymore? How about a cup of coffee, then?
[context]
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the sun shines brightly cutting through the haze into tight corners of the post-atomic daze the concrete alley floor, with its broken flow...
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for fourteen years i wished my father dead at the age of eighteen i buried him it would take another six years to be rid of his physica...
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