Taurus 23°

So inspired by the last spoke whereby a guy named Duncan sent me a note he never should. I was glancing at my email “drafts and noticed I have an even 240 said drafts. I suspect they are mainly made up of emails I wrote in some state of emotion than thought the better of. I’m twenty-eight Blagues behind, spanning the signs of Taurus and Gemini. So what better way to bridge that gap then by publishing narcissistic emails that, in so doing, might take on a comic rather than tragic purpose.

I’m going to start with a letter I wrote recently that I knew, when writing it, I couldn’t send—it was meant for two individuals:

If a certain friend of ours whom we adore ever knew the way you spoke of her it would break her heart.

Your hypocrisy and disingenuousness know no bounds. You’ll turn on a dime if something appeals to your vanity.
Just how many farewell shows and articles have you done solely for the attention?
In life we all encounter people who are users (in multiple senses of the word) masquerading as kind and caring individuals.
For me you have been a cautionary tale. That said, when asked about you I only say the kind things I can think of or nothing at all.
I have even tried to get beyond animosity with you, year on year, and broker some kind of detente.
I realize now that is impossible because you know I see through what others swallow about you hook, line and sinker.
You live inside a desperate bubble of narcissistic self-aggrandizement, which, I imagine, must be exhausting to sustain.
I really hope for your own sake that you do achieve some semblance of fame in your golden years. I know how important it is to you.
Whether or not that does come to pass I will make a non-astrological prediction:
Someday one of you will turn a blind eye, one last time, to the fact that the other one of you is a pusher and an assassin.
I can only hope that nobody I love and cherish will suffer as a result; and that the pain and guilt will be something you can endure.
See you around town as is inevitable.
Q

 

Typos happen—I don’t have time or an intern to edit.*

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