Dear you,

When you come around me looking for something, whatever that might be and I don’t pretend to know what it is, you will probably never get what you were expecting.  I think that’s just the way it is with me.  Go ahead, ask around.  And I’m not sure I should apologize for anything except a few moments of thinking that it mattered that someone knew how much he was loved once.  I think that matters.  It’s good to know.  I’m sorry for handling it badly, but there’s really not much I can do differently.  There’s not much point in my apologizing for much else, other than me being me, and I don’t guess I really see the point in apologizing for that.  Believe it or not, the time you read about was a time when I was trying really hard not to hurt anybody anymore through my own selfishness.  For whatever that’s worth.  Also, stories; telling history is never quite like the truth. Also, I’m not wired like other people.  Just so you know.