The other day, I found a crumpled letter in a wastepaper basket. What was I doing snooping through the garbage? An ordinary person might think it unusual to browse through trash cans, but I find it actually quite worthwhile. You really can get to know someone by searching through their trash. I’m serious. And I’m not talking about fucking gross shit with moldy food, etc., etc., obviously. Anyway, this letter that I found was so curious and utterly real that the only thing I could do was publish it here. And it was beautifully handwritten. Besides, it’s a work of pure literature––and don’t worry, I changed all the names. And if you ask me what the real names are, I’ll kill you.

To the author of this letter: I really have no excuse for myself.

Here it follows:

“L –

First of all, that CD? Thank you! You said it was one of your favorites? I told you I had never heard of it before, but I realized I was wrong. As soon as I turned it on I remembered! My aunt used to play that CD for me all the time when I was little. We would listen to it in her truck when she used to take me ice fishing. You know what’s really weird? I used to hate going with her. Like literally I would dread it. It’s weird because I honestly haven’t thought about it in years but listening to that CD kind of made me almost miss it. I remember I used to wear these green mittens. I still have them actually, but I haven’t worn them in years because there are holes in them. I should probably just throw them away but I-

Oh I don’t know why I’m rambling. I’m just putting off what I was going to tell you. I don’t know how to say it.

I have to stop seeing you. I just I don’t know. Don’t be upset! It’s not that I don’t like you or anything. And it’s not because of your girlfriend either it’s just that, I don’t know. I mean Jesus! It seems I hardly even know you! Oh I’m sorry I do know you a little bit I guess. I know you really do like me. Fuck. Ok honestly you are great but I just can’t see you anymore. I guess I’m in a weird place in my life right now. Did I tell you I’m deciding to drop out?

Thanks again for the CD though!

 -F

Ps. Please don’t worry about me. I know you are a really sweet guy but I just don’t want you to worry about me.

Ps. I don’t think I will be able to make it to your birthday party. I hope you understand.”

Jack Swain is conducting interviews for his column. If you are the kind of person who stays up late, email him at [email protected].