Why so sad? Though I cannot see your face right now, I’m sure it bears a pitiable little frown. Even at moments of great excitement, you’ve typically been a glum sort, and you’ve always hidden your feelings beneath the mask you like so much. Everyone wears a mask sometimes, Jason, but you never seem to take yours off.
It must have been so difficult as a child, taunted by the other kids, left alone too often. You were always so lonely. No doubt you often felt as if you’d been you’d been left by yourself in the wilderness for most of your life.
I know the years have been hard on you. The lake was always comforting; I remember how you loved it, how you spent so many of your days there, how you made it your own. It was always such a source of creative inspiration to you, and you really built a life (I mean…) there. Everyone in town knew the lake was yours, and respected your commitment to it. You had a great appreciation for nature, and would always make every effort to get everyone to stay by the lake and appreciate it as you did.
Yes, you and your mother had such good times by its placid waters. But it was never enough for you. And after your mother… well… I know that you’ve wandered around the country, to New York, of course, as all lost souls eventually must, but also to far more difficult places. I know you’ve fought some tough personal battles. Yet I also know you’ve triumphed over your rivals.
Perhaps if you’d found the right girl, one who could really understand you truly are, you might have been happier. Oh, I know you had various encounters with any number of young ladies, many of them quite lovely. And I know you caused quite a stir amongst the ones who got closest to you. Unforgettable and life altering, I’m sure, is how each would describe you. No doubt they are still dazzled at your memory, still dreaming of their last vision of you, wherever they are.
I’m glad to see you’ve found some new friends, and I hope you all have a wonderful time together, though I sometimes worry that these days it’s like the old you never existed. I understand, of course. Old memories can be tough to carry around, and as I’ve aged, my past has become more and more confusing, even to me.
I should say, in closing, that I know you’ve always looked up to me, and I’m happy to have been an inspiration. I’ll admit to being jealous, a bit, at the success you’ve had. I don’t think it’s false modesty to say your achievements surpassed my own. But you’ve deserved it, and you equally deserve to keep doing what you do so well while I rest in retirement (at least for now).
All of which is to say I wish you well on your new venture. It’s launching this week! How exciting! I’m sure that starting anew is tough, but think of the clean slate it affords. So cheer up, friend, wipe that blade clean, and bring me back a severed head or two if you can.