Dear Ray,

I just wanted to say, Happy Birthday bro. I know you are dead and everything, but I'm still among the living and thus I have all these weird quirks like sentimentality. I fucking miss you man. I guess old habits die hard too and it's not like I could talk to the dead or anything so I figure I'd communicate the way I do best and write a letter. I'll post it in my online diary in an attempt to tap into the "universal consciousness". Hey it's worth a try, hopefully you will get the message. For you sensitive f*cks who don't like me talking nasty, this is your chance to get the hell out. I'm talking to Ray right now and I'm going to talk to him the way I've always talked to him. The rest of you voyuristic types can read if you like, I mean this is a public diary and all, just consider yourselves duly warned.

So Ray, it's been what two years? Two fucking years! Holy fuck! It's just so fucking weird. I still haven't gotten the hang of doing birthdays without you, but I guess with time and with enough pain I'll eventually learn. It's not just birthdays though man. Life in general has been sucking ass, and not in the "toss my salad, ooh that tickles" kind of way.

I mean fuck, you know how long it's been since I've has pussy? I mean it hasn't been two years, but it's been a fucking long time man. It's another reason I miss you so much, you used to hook a brotha up. You used to introduce me to more females than anyone on this planet. I think you still hold the record on that one. If I had even an ounce of your smoothness I'm sure a few may have even panned out. It doesn't matter though bro, it was always the thought that counted with me and each and every time I appreciated the effort.

I think I'm turning into the horniest bastard on the planet. I guess if there's a positive side to this it that when I think about sex I'm not thinking about death. It is as if those moments when I am fucking are the only moments I feel truly alive. I am starting to disgust myself however, at the intensity in which I want sex. It is as if my mind is constantly thinking up ways, no matter how low, to land my next sexual conquest. I'm starting to indulge in thoughts of women in relationships, even married women. I'm thinking how easy it would be to sabotage and destroy an existing relationship just to get my fuck. Thoughts I wouldn't dream of entertaining in the past, I seem to be having on a constant basis.

I have already betrayed my honor in thought and I don't think it would take very much to betray my honor in action. With few exceptions I think I will pretty much fuck whomever wants to fuck me which leaves the door wide open for me to get sexually involved with a female who is totally wrong for me, just because she would be willing to spread her legs for me. That's just a hypothetical though because what is even more pathetic is that I am still not getting laid. I don't know if I can satisfy my primal urges and still be able to live with myself. It's getting more and more difficult to be a good person. What was once so natural for me has turned into a constant challenge to be good. I literally have to stop myself from sexually perusing women who are taken. When did life become so fucking difficult?

I always think about how things would be if you were alive today. I guess it's just another one of those human sentimental quirks. I know my own life has turned a lot darker and more bleak. I've become painfully aware of my own mortality and I often see life as a futile gesture, an exercise of meaninglessness. Sometimes I find myself just waiting for my turn to die, failing to see the point of continued mortal existence, but every single day since you have died I wake up to face yet another day in limbo, finding neither a joyous existence nor termination of this existence which for me means death.

I don't know what the fuck is up, but I know that constantly pondering death is no way to live and really I have no idea how to stop. I thought that maybe if I found love that I would also set aside the whole idea of death, at least for now. What I seem to be finding is that opening your heart to what life has to offer is becoming much more terrifying than death itself. It's gotten to the point where I'd rather face death and the possibility of oblivion rather than re-living the agony of a broken heart and the continued suffering of being left behind while the people I love die around me.

I've walked in darkness for so long I have no idea how to get back out of it. It's like hope has disappeared and it has been replaced with apathy and despair. I see no light at the end of this tunnel and I don't think I could find it alone. I remember I used to be able to do everything alone, I felt invincible, like I could do anything. Now I lay here, vanquished and thwarted. It's like life found a way to defeat me when you were taken away from my existence. It is as if life has given me a true taste of what being alone is like. It's enough that I have a genuine fear of living. Being more afraid of living than dying, I'd say that's pretty fucked up? Wouldn't you?

Well you probably have more wisdom in this than me bro, you have lived your live not being afraid to love. You are still a fucking inspiration to me in that respect man. Not only that, you have also been through death, something I haven't even dreamed of contemplating until the day you passed away. I am still trying and failing to find my love. Honestly I don't think there's a woman for me that exists anymore. There are no angels to rescue me from my despair, no light to break through my darkness, no yin for my yang. My thoughts have become too dark, I don't think any one person can truly know where I am coming from anymore. My aura has become one that repels with it's negativity. I think I have lost my ability to be sexy. All I have to offer is my broken and tortured heart. Who the fuck wants that? And really I wouldn't want to drag anyone down to my level of misery. Why would anyone want to wish this kind of pain upon another person.

I don't know, it's probably better if I face the rest of my life alone. I still believe if you think intensely enough about something, it will eventually manifest itself in reality because you eventually do the things you think of in a conscious or even sub-conscious level eventually leading and delivering you to that thought stuck in your mind. The thoughts that have been occupying my mind as of late have been alternating thoughts of sex and death. Eventually one of them will come into fruition. Death is inevitable, it will come whether you seek it or not but I have no doubt that it has the potential of arriving much more immediately if one desires it intensely enough. Sex is a different story, I don't know anyone who wants it more intensely than I do, yet I am constantly being denied it's pleasure. I'm not digging this irony. All I know is that neither wish is being fulfilled and all that is serving to do is build upon the frustration and the hatred of how my life has become. My calm and cool are slowly withering away each passing moment and I know that eventually there will be a breaking point.

Dude, I'm sorry I'm unloading all this venom upon you. I wanted this to be a letter about how much I missed you and it kind of turn out to be yet another one of my venting sessions. Really though I don't know who else to talk to about this and you are dead so far be it for you to complain. ;) Seriously man, I know that if you were still alive you would be the guy I'd be venting to anyway, not that I'd have anything to be sad about because you would still be here. Anyway this letter has exhausted me to the point where I'm thinking in circles. Probably not the most efficient way to use one's mind so I'll end it around here.

Ray, I hope the afterlife is treating you well. Can't be much worse than this existence. Hey Ray, I wonder if there's pussy in the afterlife and if so can I fuck some of that pussy? That's my eternal fucking question for you bro. ;) Non corporeal fucking, oh yeah baby, sock it to me... =p Oh and again, Happy Fucking Birthday man. I hope yours is fucking better than mine was. =p You damn bitch. Yeah I called you bitch. I know there were times when I was the damn bitch, face down in my own puke wondering what the fuck I drank that makes me feel like a dagger is in my skull. But hey who wussed out of this party called life? Who's the bitch now? *evil grin* I'm just playing with ya bro. For fucking old times sake man. Damn those were fucking good times. What was your fucking drink? SoCo? Remy VSOP? I'll make a mental note to have several shots of that for you on my next outing. I'll be sure to make myself the bitch and bow before the porcelain god, just like the fucking old days man! =p

Much love bro,

-D