It's been over a month since I wrote. Miss me?
I've had a lot to think about, a lot to hate about you, and I've got some news.
The husband of a friend at work will meet the same fate as Eric did, though he might only have a few months between diagnosis and death unlike Eric's 1.5 years. This is harsh. Les isn't a spring chicken, but he is newly married to the woman he's been with for 15 years, and he's helped raise her daughters and see them into woman and motherhood themselves. He's a brand new grandparent, has sons of his own, and has brought math tutoring aid to thousands of post-secondary students as a retired Engineer. I work with him and his wife, so this will be a little closer to my day-to-day than Eric's cancer. It breaks my heart.
You know, I took Religious Studies as my university degree. A lot of the theory within religion is how people respond to good and evil, how they come to terms with misfortune, tragedy, death, life, and the corresponding rituals we form around those events. When I think of your visible power over humanity I wonder if you are indeed the devil incarnate. Mind you, I don't really believe in the devil, but I do believe in you. I believe you slowly talk humans into selling their souls to you, always with a price. The price might not even be definable, but it could be in the form of a cough, a raspy laugh, fatigue, shortened breath, poor mouth health, shortened life, and then the whammos like Cancer. It could be paid in friendships, accessibility to restaurants/etc, having to go outside to inhale, stained fingers, stained teeth, wrinkles around the lips and eyes, stinkiness, bad breath, or less money. A lot less money.
It seems you take any payment, but that ultimately it's the soul that is your prize payment.
Humans are already little flesh-cicles that are so fragile it's only by means of brains and opposable thumbs that we've been able to come this far and still survive. Our carnal desires, addictions and religious endeavors seem to be our downfall. With our own inventions we can kill ourselves, or those around us, or some people are set up with the power to kill millions.
You've done a great job of convincing us all to find more efficient ways to kill ourselves by being so powerful as to help usher in a world-wide industry that bows to you.
It's funny, because the same week I started to slack off on the letters to you I found out about Les. It's like you crave my letters enough to put all the pieces in motion to take someone else.
Tell me now, if I stop writing again who will you take from me next?
I don't appreciate this pressure. I'm not in a position to lobby the world against you, so this is what I can do. I can't guarantee letters daily, or even every week, but trust me each day is a new chance to see you everywhere and hate the power you have over my fellow flesh-cicles. I'll be back, as I'm sure you will be.