Joe Carroll
New Member
Ryan...
I cannot help but smile to myself as I compose this late night bit of, well, mental correspondence to you, my most worthy opponent in our constant, delightful game of cat and mouse. It is rather ironic - don't you think? - that these words are not even set to paper, let alone punched from a keyboard through the internet waves forever floating above our heads before reaching their intended destination. Oh no, this time they are merely thoughts kept inside my own overactive little brain, thoughts delaying proper sleep as I lie here in the dark upon my taxpayer-funded cot in a sterile little cell meant to teach ole Joe Carroll a lesson, or some such nonsense. Such a rubbish thought is that, a man otherwise destined for greatness not yet fully attained - that man being yours truly, Ryan, as if there could be any doubt - being silenced by these walls, or by the State daring to dictate morality whilst putting to death those who have put others to death for far better reasons. Now THAT is irony, for you, my friend. Do you see the perversity there? But, I digress.
I miss you, Ryan. I'm not ashamed to admit it. Our provocative banter invigorates me. The conversation here is, well, a bit lacking, really. If I'm to be completely honest, it must be said that any conversations I have are lacking in comparison to our little chats. We've a rather interesting connection, you and I. Oh, you're always the first to deny its existence, outwardly at least, and perhaps even in your own mind you still find ways to dismiss the truth. But you still cannot ignore me, Ryan. I am always your truth. And oh, the things I could teach you. The doors I could open for you. Relieved of such heavy burdens you would be, a man truly vested in all the glories of his own free will.
It truly is a pity, Agent Hardy, my old friend, my most deserving adversary, that you don't know of my smile here in the dark. Or, maybe you do know, hm? I like to think, in fact I wholeheartedly believe, you might be lying awake in your own bed at this very moment, staring at the ceiling because finding your way to the bottom of another bottle still did not numb your connection to me. You will never sleep with a clear conscience, Ryan, not until you accept the truth. There is no reason to fight off what we both already know. Own it, embrace it. Share it with me.
You need me, Ryan, just as I need you in this world. We are indeed kindred spirits, soul mates, you and I. The truth will set you free, as the trite little phrase goes. I am your truth. And I will not be denied. You shall be reminded of that truth alone, sooner than later.
I cannot help but smile to myself as I compose this late night bit of, well, mental correspondence to you, my most worthy opponent in our constant, delightful game of cat and mouse. It is rather ironic - don't you think? - that these words are not even set to paper, let alone punched from a keyboard through the internet waves forever floating above our heads before reaching their intended destination. Oh no, this time they are merely thoughts kept inside my own overactive little brain, thoughts delaying proper sleep as I lie here in the dark upon my taxpayer-funded cot in a sterile little cell meant to teach ole Joe Carroll a lesson, or some such nonsense. Such a rubbish thought is that, a man otherwise destined for greatness not yet fully attained - that man being yours truly, Ryan, as if there could be any doubt - being silenced by these walls, or by the State daring to dictate morality whilst putting to death those who have put others to death for far better reasons. Now THAT is irony, for you, my friend. Do you see the perversity there? But, I digress.
I miss you, Ryan. I'm not ashamed to admit it. Our provocative banter invigorates me. The conversation here is, well, a bit lacking, really. If I'm to be completely honest, it must be said that any conversations I have are lacking in comparison to our little chats. We've a rather interesting connection, you and I. Oh, you're always the first to deny its existence, outwardly at least, and perhaps even in your own mind you still find ways to dismiss the truth. But you still cannot ignore me, Ryan. I am always your truth. And oh, the things I could teach you. The doors I could open for you. Relieved of such heavy burdens you would be, a man truly vested in all the glories of his own free will.
It truly is a pity, Agent Hardy, my old friend, my most deserving adversary, that you don't know of my smile here in the dark. Or, maybe you do know, hm? I like to think, in fact I wholeheartedly believe, you might be lying awake in your own bed at this very moment, staring at the ceiling because finding your way to the bottom of another bottle still did not numb your connection to me. You will never sleep with a clear conscience, Ryan, not until you accept the truth. There is no reason to fight off what we both already know. Own it, embrace it. Share it with me.
You need me, Ryan, just as I need you in this world. We are indeed kindred spirits, soul mates, you and I. The truth will set you free, as the trite little phrase goes. I am your truth. And I will not be denied. You shall be reminded of that truth alone, sooner than later.
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