Dear L.,

In the wildest times of the world, I never realized that I'd actually meet someone like you... And by some sheer stroke of luck, I never thought I'd have to meet an exact replica of you. ...Oh no wait, that's not entirely true, he's not really an exact replica, although both your characters do resonate the same essence. An essence that reeks of the decaying stench of the mildew that wraps around worthlessness.

What is it with me and my infinite desire to accumulate junk? I think it's about wanting what seems to be unwanted. Or just finding beauty in something that can so easily be discarded. The wanting of something that should just be thrown out, knowing you can easily have something better in its place, is a mystery. It's a spoiled-brat syndrome, I suppose. Because I can have everything, I want something that no one would probably ever want.

To be fair, some junk do happen to be valuable. And no matter how despicable, broken, or unwanted they seem to be at first glance, they surprise you with a quality that redeems themselves in the end.

You, unfortunately, did not have a redeeming quality. I thought that you would, but unfortunately I was wrong. You are as you appear. Just junk.

And your doppelganger? Well that one, I had high hopes for. I thought that he would somehow redeem himself as he does seem to appear as if he has some value... And I waited for his potential, longer than I had waited for yours and in doing so, he has become an endearing fixture in my life. But that's all. Just as I was wrong about you, I turned out to be wrong about him.

Both of you have no redeeming qualities, because there is nothing to redeem. You have the maturity of a primate, the depth of a teaspoon, and the intellectual capacity of a dog.

But regardless of what you both turned out to be... Thank you, anyway. Having both of you in my life has been mildly entertaining.


As Always,
D.