Sincerely, Mike

EPILOGUE- DEAR MIKE

May 27th, 2012

Dear Mike,

Oh boy.

I feel like this is way, way overdue.

My mind is still a total mess, so I'm not sure how clearly I'll be able to get my points across, but I'm gonna give it a good old-fashioned Jedi Master "do or do not, there is no try" anyway.

I guess I should probably start this off by thanking you for taking care of me these past couple of months. I know it hasn't exactly been a walk in the park, and we've probably still got a pretty long way to go 'til I can at least get out of bed on my own or have a full-on conversation. But please know that I really, really appreciate every moment you've spent cleaning vomit, changing piss-soaked sheets, trying to get me to eat something I didn't want to eat, and doing demeaning shit like wiping my ass or changing my underwear more than I could ever begin to tell you. And, more than anything, thanks for keeping Spazzy company and making him feel loved when I'm down for the count, because it really does mean the world to both him and myself.

Now...moving on to the elephant in the room.

Mike.

I've known you since...well, for longer than I haven't.

And in that time, you've been nothing short of the most incredible friend a guy like me could ever hope to have.

I don't know who told you otherwise, but fuck, man, they were dead wrong.

How could you ever blame yourself for any of this, Mike?

This sort of thing just isn't the fault of one guy alone, much less yours, of all people. You don't owe me an apology for shit. These were my problems, and my habits, and I was the one who dragged you down with me when I started to drown. You never explicitly did anything to make me feel like less than I am. I can understand that, and you should, too. I couldn't control my jealousy or my desire to have something that I couldn't have. That's just the fault of my own humanity- don't feel guilty about that.

And don't think for even a second that my own inability to control myself or reign in on my habits was any fault of yours.

It was my own responsibility to get my own shit together. There was no pressure on you to rip the beer out of my hand that night, or any night, for that matter. They were my problems, and it was on me to fix them, not you.

Because we've been friends for so long, I know how you are about these sort of things, and I fully realize that you won't let it go unless you hear the words out of my mouth.

Or, in this case, read them in my handwriting.

So, that in mind, I forgive you, Mike.

You did nothing wrong.

Seriously.

But either way, if it helps you sleep at night, I forgive you, for any and every thing you think you ever did or didn't do to me.

You're a good guy, Mike. A great one, actually. From what I can tell from reading these letters, you were doing the right thing, for the most part.

You tried the best you could to fix everything, and sometimes, your best is enough. Don't try to blame yourself for shit you didn't do, and don't try to blame yourself for being unable to solve a problem that's bigger than yourself. You did right by me.

For what it's worth, you handled all this infinitely better than I've ever handled a damn thing in my life.

If anybody here owes anybody else an apology, it's me.