"It would be funny." The letter said.

"If she really knew why I decided to do what I did she would be worse off than she is now. It's just entertaining to see her play her little game, creating that world in which I had everything to do with how she feels now and she's left being the victim."

The letter had arrived that morning and had been sitting on the dining room table all afternoon until I got home from work. It was just waiting there, almost like a guest we were having over for dinner.

I went into my study to be alone and to read it. It was heavy, a number of pages folded up perfectly. His writing was still uncanny, his almost obsessive-compulsive habit of taking up almost every single blank space with writing.

He started off his letter with menial, typical things. The weather, work, the long-winded wait his girl and him are having to go through in order to make all this procedure as legal and crystal-clear as possible.

It wasn't until midway through the third page that things took the turn they usually do.

"She's still bitter and that's fine with me. I've had enough of feeling guilty of what I did, it makes fee like puking, almost hormonal. I don't intend to do a thing about it though, it's her life she's leading and if she wants to do it this way it's her own decision."

His hand writing, if you've seen it before is this perfect series of straight lines. Seen from far away you'd think he was only scribbling, not really writing, but taking a closer look you'd find these words in between words, two lines of text inside a single line of a ruled sheet. It's almost scary to look at.

"What she needs to remember though, is this: Even if she makes everyone believe that she had absolutely nothing to do with what happened, she still has to live with that resentment she has towards me, she still has to almost schedule certain part of her day to hate."

My eyes soon started to hurt from reading the letter. Reading his notebooks at length will do that to you. Suddenly you'd notice words moving, or you skipping a line because of how close together he writes them. I had to stand up and rub my eyes several times to let them rest. Looking out the window helps, that way your eyes remember what the normal world really looks like.

"But, like I was saying in the beginning. If she really knew why I did what I did she would probably hate me more than she does now. She thinks I left her for someone, when in fact I left her for something, which ultimately I didn't get anyways."

Those two words written in bolder writing, he never specified what it was but I had an idea.

"It's ironic how I had left her weeks before I had even met my future wife."

That's something that I had already known, but we never talked about. It was easy to see what was missing in his life.

"Life plays an unfair game with everyone. Time is supposed to help you heal, but it's only willing to help if you're willing to give something back. I lived through my penance, I gave myself as much shit and hard times as one man can give himself, but I became tired of it, I had enough of feeling like shit over something I had to do."

By this time I had grown used to his handwriting and I was flipping through the pages as if they were the a novel, the ones he always gave me a hard time for reading.

"I just hope this all ends for the best, the best being me far away from here, smoking a cigarette with my wife, watching a movie, our kitten sleeping soundly at our feet. I don't care about anything or anyone else right now, the time has come to give myself exactly what I've always wanted. Something I've already found."

His letter ended quite abruptly, I was almost sure that pages were missing so I searched in vain. Everything was there, all ten pages of words and thoughts. He had left months ago pursuing something, pursuing "his" thing, showing the world he deserves what he has and he had to do what he had to do.

"One thinks that in a relationship of several years feeling exactly same as you felt when that relationship began is the greatest feeling in the world. For me, it just felt like it was going nowhere."

He definitely wasn't "nowhere" anymore and, as far as I can see, he's starting to find the places he's been looking for all these years.

Like a home.