A letter from Aug 08, 2023

It's August 9th 2023. Sam's birthday. I'm in my bed after a con-call. Home. Jobless. Listening to 'Rain' by Steve Conte. My cheeks are wet from my tears. But they are drying as I type. Never forget to love. Love is idiotic. Be an idiot. Haven't seen Dheeptha in over a year. Haven't talked to her in 3 months. Last time we talked it was about a YouTube comment. I feel like dying Monish. I don't know how to stop my thoughts from running into that thought. No one calls me the way she calls me. Truly, Monish.