Hit the Bottom

I can't take it anymore. I've hit bottom. I don't think I could be more depressed. After 23 joyous years together, the bastard takes off to some unknown destination and doesn’t even have the gazungas to say goodbye! But I get ahead of myself . . .

About 13 days ago, my lifetime friend Conor came home from camp, where he had been working for the summer. I was so happy to see him, and extremely disappointed when he didn’t even give me the time of day. The next day he had a big party and was very social, but not even a “Hello Grunt, how was your summer” to me. The day after that, he’s gone. And I haven’t seen him since. I’m not really worried for his safety, his family doesn’t seem worried. It’s his love I miss.

You see, Conor and I have been best friends for 23 years. And for him to just pull out, take off, and not even say “ta-ta, see you later,” it really hurts me. More than you, my dear reader, can imagine. With Con not here, my life is over. I only know of one way to ease the pain and fill the gap Conor has left in my life.
I'll keep you up to date on how I'm coping.

Conor’s always,
Grunt