To Chez

To anyone who doesn't think the world is a fickle bitch, I've got a little advice - wake up. She doles out sparse amounts of joy and happiness while giving a disproportionate helping of grief, pain and all around dejection. I'll admit that, so far, I've lived a charmed life. My greatest victories and defeats pale in comparison to what some have had to overcome. My biggest challenges might be situations others would wish for as an escape from the horror their lives have become.

Through it all, there's one thing that's constantly at the back of mind, pecking at my conscience. It's the feeling that my time is coming and no matter how carefully I plan or don't plan, someday I'm going to come up against a seemingly impassible wall. The rub, as Shakespeare would say, is the undefined way I'll deal with, react to, and ultimately interact with the wall. Will I immediately begin to climb, pushing hard till I've reached the top or will I lie at the bottom of the canyon, unable to place one weak hand on the wall? It's impossible to know, having never been weighed and measured in such a way.

Maybe that's why I'm drawn to stories of people thrust up against the wall. Whether self-made or placed by the hand of fate, it makes no matter. The only thing I care about, the only thing I can concentrate on, is those people's reactions. I can only assume I'm looking for some clue as to what my own reaction will be when the day comes. I'm looking for a blueprint to something that can't be planned. Maybe I'm just gleaning knowledge like a math major studying example problems before the big test. I'm not sure. But one thing I do know, those stories have a way of sticking with me, churning over and over in my head.

There's a good chance I'll have trouble sleeping tonight for one irrepressible reason. Chez, I know you'll never read these words but I just wanted to pass on my condolences for whatever you're going through. I don't know what's going on, probably never will and, truth be told, don't need to. I couldn't even tell you why I care or why I'm affected. I don't personally know you from Adam and yet, I can't deny that I do care. I can only guess I've formed an attachment to you through your writing and this attachment, irrational as it may be, has stirred my emotional pot.

Keep fighting, buddy. Every good thing in life it worth fighting for, down to our last breath. It wouldn't be the theme of countless movies, books, plays and songs, both good and bad, if it didn't ring true. Good luck and I hope we hear from you sooner than later.