3:12// Samuel & I were so fucking gay like that, it was, by another’s account, “disgustingly cute”. I still love it and I love you Samuel. The open profession of love is no threat. Ever be wary of those enthralled by crime dramas. I love you for you though. I have never understood myself more clearly than when we were co-present. Clearly, I can live with distance now, with little problem. I still love you more than any other. I have ended many a promising relationship because of you. That’s not your fault by any means. You ought to feel proud. You are most perfect in such a state. I love you as the brilliant yet flawed human you are, as I am, as we all are to varying degrees. I love you Sam. I don’t care about the nonsense nearly as much as I care about what I recall the world to be like before the tempest. There is no other past that would lead us to this moment, already temporally shifted. I love you Samuel Dwinell. I will never stop believing in and admiring you. I won’t rant like this for much longer, but it is that time of the year. There is nothing to say. To be presence, as I believe you understand, would be enough. Your absence did not hurt me when we were together, or not in the way you imagined it. I never wanted you to feel you needed to choose between your work or me. I could have freaked our about my misery without you immediately taking responsibility. I’m an eldest child too. I get it. I love you. That club we neither really went to has closed, the studio is still at the same place. I am not expecting anything, but I am opening up options. We could read in bed together, like a mid-’90s American sitcom. I understand you. I love you. I will whether or not we meet again. That has always been your choice, but perhaps I deserved your vengeance. I don’t care. I was a damn fool too. I love you. Remember how you used to speak of all the house plants you killed from overwatering Samuel? Things really are better when, even in and ending, you act on friendly terms. You were not responsible for my happiness. I never asked that of you. I never asked for the nonetheless appreciated elaborate St. Valentine’s dinner. Our little surprises for one another were sweet when they happened, but it was no competition, not something worthy of eating away time from your dissertation. I was rooting for you too Sam. I still am. I always will be, because I have never been your enemy. I refuse to be, despite your, well, I am the last to cast stones, especially in this glass house. All of this erratic writing, start to finish, has all been sourced from you. You will always be a major part of who I am. You trained me both in the art of love and the decaying half-life of sincerity, my one true love, noble roaming self-sufficient regal giant. No one helped you move, rugged man you are. Fuck me or at least navigate my Super Bowl party meerkat. The nonsense is over, the noise will be music one day. Trust me, we are only just beginning. I will always believe in you, take whatever breaks you need Sam.