Dear Charles,

I feel that this is necessary. To do otherwise would be to punctuate this end of the year (that i'm feeling nothing for) with a wrong marking. At this point i'm not sure if this will be long or short winded; i have yet to write it of course. But you are aware that you do not have to read this. You have no obligations on anyone's part, and i will fully understand if your eyes peer no farther than the opening header. Nonetheless, i will proceed to recount things from my memory, which is not even remotely clear.

Exactly where to start is not clear. We both know the details, and i would assume that each of us has an idea of how they all fell into place. We had found ourselves in eachother's company. I'm not sure what it was that you found--or were finding--within myself, but i believe that i was finding a kindred spirit within you; someone who saw things from a perspective not too distant from my own. I don't think that there is really any need to gratuitously detail the events of the first weeks in this place: we took walks, we had talks, and things were as they would be.
Then through some fate things took a turn. I first became aware of it when, one morning, i knocked on your door to your room in an attempt to have someone to hang out with in the beginning hours of the day. As i stated before, my memory is not clear, and so whether or not i actually heard you within your room is a fleeting shadow across my mind. That fact is immaterial anyway, all that really matters is that either way i had rationalized in my mind that i was perhaps being far too needy on my part, and that i should simply wait until you made the next move that would advance our friendship. This line of thought has often been a master of my mind, and is the reason why i've had untold relationship failures and often struggle to get to know another person. So i had decided that it would be best for the both of us if i merely found something else to occupy myself for the time being, and waited until you next asked me to hang out.
Before i knew it we had apparently fallen out. The key words in that statement are 'before i knew it,' and 'apparently'. I say these because it seems as though other people had become aware of our rift before i truly was. I'm not sure if that was due to your everlasting mouth (this is a compliment, truly), or if other people were just more intune to our state. Either way, someone mentioned something to me about our current lacking, and whatever i may have said back to them was truly irrelevant; on the inside i was speechless and confused despite whatever i said on the outside. To me, waiting for you to make the next advance--the next plan for a day for the two of us--became something that slowly drifted to the deeper recedes of my mind. I was unconscious of the fact that we were not hanging out anymore, let alone joking, talking, and jesting as we had in previous weeks.
Once this fact was given light to me through an outside person, i felt as though some of my personal business had fallen to the hands of interlopers. As i'm sure you're aware, once personal business is brought out in the open (or in this case, revealed to be out in the open) the pressure to act is increased. Under this pressure i must sorrowfully admit that i had become slightly hostile. I searched your inner self and found anything i could grasp at that i could conceivably throw anger towards. I was never angry at you. Most of the things i said to have disliked you for i actually admire you for. I was merely angry at the fact that someone whom i had let view into the window of my life was no longer on my side. I was angry at the fact that i had no clue how to fix the situation that had befallen the two of us. I was still trying humbly to remain in my own life while hoping that you would be daring enough to step into it. Obviously we are now staring at the result of such action.
Of course there were things that i was genuinely angry towards with you. The first and foremost being that when Sean came to visit you told him that you were his temporary replacement. I had nothing against this at the time; it was a fact that we were both consciously aware of. The anger came when i reflected upon this moment after the fact that we were no longer on speaking terms was revealed to me. I was disgusted that i had let someone get that close to me to be able to say something of the sort, and then three weeks later there is no discourse between the two of us.
But it took something that my sister said to me when she came to visit that instantly dissolved any anger towards you, or myself, on this matter. After we had sat and watched the show (at this point i can't remember if it was for Flaming Mango, or one of the other thousand bands you've been in) she had brought you up in conversation... Or maybe i had on some comment about your bass lines. Either way i told Paige, "I really don't know what to think about him..." To this she responded, "He still looks at you, you know? Throughout the show he kept glancing over at you." Just like that, things became far more apparent to me than they had been. While it is possible that i could be misreading your looks as something of contempt, i am sure that this is not the case. When you and i look at one another, i sense a mutual understanding of the loss that has come to characterize us.
But exactly how far this understanding really grasps is beyond me. All i can know are my own feelings; beyond these i am a newborn kitten fumbling in the darkness on spindly legs. So what i do know is pure and simple: This fucking sucks. I hear you talking to others about the current writing project you're working on, asking others for advice and whatnot, and each time i want to scream at you, "Give me a copy dammit! I care about you enough to break your feelings with the truth of what i think, so i will help edit the shit out of your work if your really want it!" But each time i am checked by my inner impulse to remain humbly in my world until you step foot in it. I don't want to assume myself important enough in your life by actually asking to read your work, and i don't want to burden your time by asking you to read mine.
Which is, as far as i can tell, all that killed our being. I was too conscious of the possibility of me being annoying to keep trying to have a presence in your world. Unless i am misreading things, and you actually do have some bone of contention with me, we died out because we were too afraid to be men about the matter. Granted, you never were without a gaggle of followers, so i never felt comfortable discussing this with you personally, but i think that's a retarded thing to let a friendship die on. So this is me: extending the olive branch; lending a hand; building back my half of the bridge; doing whatever the fuck you want to call it to say to you, "I would enjoy having you be a force in my life again."
This is really all i have to say. What happens next is on you, and i feel as though i should emphasize that point, otherwise we may be doomed to repeat what killed us in the first place before we ever make any headway. I'm posting this on my blog as well as slipping it under your door, so just comment back, punch me in the chest, slaughter a chicken and hold an orgy in my room; do whatever you think is necessary to let me know how we stand after this. But just make sure that you let me know.

Yours Truly,
Nygil McCune.