A letter (III)

It is purpose that defines us

--Agent Smith, The Matrix Reloaded

My dearest:

It's been a very long time since I last wrote to you. Please accept my apologies. Might I offer the excuse of my puny jobs and funny schedules? I think I can. I've always imagined you as an utterly understanding person.

What could you be up to right now? You know, I must admit I haven't thought of you that much lately (and that explains why it took me a year and a half to write to you again), but that doesn't mean I miss you any less. You know me, I'm kinda obsessive once something takes over my mind.

I've quit one of my jobs and taken a new one at Portland. It's a little bit thrilling to drive at 80 mph early in the morning. My workmates and my new boss over there don't make my life as miserable as it was at my former job, and the pay is a little bit better. But... you know? I'm getting tired of the same old thing every freakin' day.

I miss reading and writing. I miss talking to you inside my head. I miss creating and dissecting, and collecting those tiny bits of data that let me grasp the world around me. I miss trying to be ready to find you around a corner, aboard the subway, anywhere I could find a little trace that told me it is you and get there and tell you my name.

Please know that these are difficult times and I really wish you were real and here. But please also know that I keep my faith that I'll find you some day. Please know that, beyond your dark hair and your easy smile, I believe you'll be my very denial of purpose.

Read you soon!

Sterling

Wednesday the 26th, October 2011. Vancouver, WA, USA.
12:33pm PST.