Hey man,

I wrote you a malicious letter a few days ago, but somehow, the words were erased. While I don't regret what was said, I hope that we both can move past it. I only said those things because I love you. Sometimes we have to tell loved ones the truth, no matter the cost.

Damn, it's kinda surreal when you really think about it. I mean, think about it for a sec. In the blink of an eye, my letter to you was obliterated. It is as if I never wrote it. I wonder if that's what frightens you most about death? Being forgotten? Being alone? Leaving with words unsaid while accomplishing nothing of any value?

You are 30 years old.

No statues will be erected in honor of the glorious naval battles that you never fought. You will not be admitted into the Pro Football Hall of Fame (I'm assuming that you had to at least wear a helmet once or twice for that one). Most of your childhood goals and dreams perished, stillborn. You have written and will write enough tales of sorrow and regret to fill the Library of Congress. Twice.

When you leave this existence, those few who you have allowed into your heart will mourn your loss, until they depart this world as well. Then, it will be as if someone accidentally deleted your writings from the page.

Kinda makes you wonder what's the point, doesn’t it?

You're born, you suffer, you struggle, you laugh, you cry, you love, you despise, you deny, you write, and ultimately, you die. Unless you have contributed something significant or profound to this world, you will not be remembered. How long will you be here? Sixty, seventy, eighty years, if you're lucky and lay off the booze? In the grand scheme of things, your lifespan might as well be equivalent to a fruitfly.

In the end, all you can really hope for is that some underpaid, uninspired public school teacher reads to her class an obscure piece of poetry written by a bitter, mediocre, unfulfilled, perpetual dreamer. Your rhetorical ramblings of woe could captivate and, more likely, bore an audience of uninterested high school literature students for decades, or even centuries, long after you have left this earth. If you leave that singular legacy behind, consider yourself extremely fortunate.

But you really shouldn't concern yourself with such things. Rejoice, for you are 30 YEARS OLD. You have reached a stage where all that really matters is the pursuit of happiness and helping others. If you waste too much more time dreaming, scheming, and regretting, you will forget to LIVE.

Indulge yourself in feeling the warmth of the sun as it begins to waver at the horizon. Don't just watch the sunset; DRINK it with ALL of your senses. When you share a kiss with your lady, inhale her scent and melt into her flesh as if it were the last time, everytime. Learn how to forgive those who have hurt you and extract that poison. Sure, vengance and anger were great motivational tools, but you made it through the darkness, so you no longer need them.

Yeah... that's my most important request to you. Learn how to be happy.

May peace enter your heart and sooth the scars. I love you.