I trust this letter finds you in good health.
It has been a few years, I admit. Time stands still for no one, as they say!
How are your anger management issues now? (If that question doesn’t cause you to fly off the handle!)
Do you remember, you used to be so mad and full of rage, such a temper, like a tiny seething time bomb of bristles, that stank of cigarettes? You were like an animal! (If there’s an animal that smokes half chewed cigars.)
To be honest it was kinda’ sad, as if your angst defined your identity so much you didn’t know who you were anymore.
I’m not dismissing your past, mate, I know you’ve been treated badly, betrayed, ripped apart. It’s just feels a little bleak as I know you had so many friends who seemed to genuinely care about you and look up to you. It’s a shame the love, companionship and community of your mates and ex-mates didn’t seem to factor into your healing process.
I always thought maybe you just needed a hug. Not that I was going to try! I left that to one of your many female admirers – who worryingly all seemed to be a lot younger than you!
You certainly were popular though! Everyone wanted you at their party, to be seen with you, everyone wanted to be like you. Well, maybe not the hair.
I recall you were pretty adamant about that haircut. Actually you were just adamant all over, weren’t you?
But joking aside, there is something serious we need to discuss. I think the thing that disturbs me most, the thing that truly upsets me is that you used to be a role model for guys like me (well, maybe not the smoking) – no, you were one of my heroes because you were short! What changed? Now whenever I see you around you’re like over six feet tall! Where did THAT growth spurt come from?!
And what’s with the Australian accent? I don’t know who you are anymore.
“Join the club, bub” I’m sure you’d say, “And stick another moose rib on the barbie.”
Kindest regards, I look forward to seeing you again soon.