hundreds of miles away-
i thought of you today
when i read your update.
talking like a love-sick puppy.
of course i'm bitterly jealous.
you've become one of "them".

bitter
for there is no better story than the one of love. i could have been everywhere in the world, met every soul, climbed every mountain, experienced every adventure out there-
i still can't touch that one story.
spawns every pop song.
entices the masses to the movie theater.

bitter
for you can tell a story now that i can't. do you look at me now like i'm an empty shell, now that you've had it?
that what i imagine you all do.
i'd like to think that i still have cards up my sleeve.
i tell myself that, at least.
hope has been a good friend.
her and self-medication.

bitter
for you've forced me to get in touch with shit.
its so much easier when you don't have to think about it.

then again-
maybe thats the story that i have that you don't.
the story of mike hunt.
unloved and unloving.

anyway, congratulations.