how's your life?

I sat on a friend's patio at the beach exchanging love letters with someone who was very far away.

Don't fade away from me, okay? I wrote. Except it wasn't really a question. It felt more like I was talking to myself.

I get so anxious these days. My shoulders hurt. And every morning I have to crack my right elbow just to feel any kind of relief.

At the house, I would wake up before everyone else, drink two glasses of water, read every article about Rupert Murdoch, and stare at the beach.

I like having you around...it's nice to have someone to share my thoughts with. Talking to myself again.

It's kind of funny how close you feel to someone who's so far away. I wasn't sure what he was doing. To be honest, I didn't ask.

That night, I got a text back.

I've been eating and sleeping well and it's raining more than ever. The downfall of Murdoch has been wonderful to watch as he has been the proverbial boogeyman who has haunted since my childhood.
As for the rest, we are both restless. There is a language we share that few others recognize. I would be lying if I said I didn't think of you fondly, and often. The functionality of being around is a door that swings both ways.
Your thoughts are embraced wherever I exist.

The air was warm; I slept outside. The ocean is beautiful at night. They say anything about the future can be so pleasurable that sometimes we'd rather think about it than get there. I was afraid. I was afraid that next time would not be as perfect as this.

I knew that when I'd see him, he'd ask me, "How's your life?" This time I wouldn't have an answer. What happens when "How's your life?" no longer becomes relevant.