Dear Chaos,
How you doing old friend? I’ve been pretty good over here. You know, sunny days, soft music etc etc. I know we catch up from time to time, but I felt I needed to write. I’m sure you have noted my absence of late. And I didn’t want to leave you completely without saying good-bye. Or explaining myself.
It’s not that you have lost your excitement. It is not that you have become too much to handle. It’s not that I haven’t enjoyed your company. You have been a companion and distraction for many a year. I’m afraid this is a classic case of ‘it’s not you it’s me’.
I’m not sure if it’s age. Mine particularly. The meter keeps clicking over. I’m not sure if it’s the sea. Mine particularly. It’s quiet and warm.
Whatever it is, I need to tell you.
We cannot be friends anymore.
Please don’t be sad. There are plenty of kids yearning for your belting drumbeat. There are plenty of girls who will take you in. Into their heads and under their skin.
I however, am not one of them anymore. I would like to say that I will miss you. But Chaos, we both know that would be a lie. And I don’t want to do that either.
Don’t worry, I will be writing a letter to Deceit later on as well. You aren’t the one being left behind.
I wish you all the best. Perhaps we will bump into each other again one day. It is inevitable I suppose. For now, I’d prefer if you’d f*%# right off.
Yours Sincerely,
Matisse Walkden-Brown
MATISSE WB 