dear hollywood,

dear hollywood,

i miss you. i miss our nights of laughter and situational comedy. i miss your drama. i miss the stories you used to tell me. i even miss the tension between us when you'd make me sit on the edge of my seat. darn it all, i miss you.

it doesn't seem like you miss me so much, though. night after night i look for you but can only find old pictures of you re-running over and over. or something called reality tv. i keep hoping that you'll show up, especially at our old regular meeting time on thursday nights, but you're nowhere to be found. it saddens me that it seems you've forgotten me so quickly. i thought we had something special. but it occurs to me that maybe you haven't known me well enough. in fact, if you really knew me, maybe you'd be looking for me, too.

i'm a writer. that is, i enjoy writing. i pretty much write for free (are you listening now?). and i even write weekly. with a deadline. sometimes i make people laugh. sometimes i even make them cry. sometimes i convict people (you're probably not interested in that so much). i certainly know how to be dramatic (see most of the posts on this blog as examples).

in fact, the way i see it - you need me! desperately. and i'm offering myself. i'm taking a risk here and making myself vulnerable to you - i'm putting myself all out there: i miss you. and whether or not you realize it, i think you might miss me too. at the very least you could use me right now. and i'd be happy to help. so, if you want to; if you think about it and realize that i'm right, i'm right here. for now. but pretty soon i'm going to move on. i'll find something else to do on thursday nights. i won't wait forever. so let me know.

missing you,

greg.